The Whispered Word, Lenore
by Lenore Parker
Summary: Lenore Parker buys the Opera Populaire to reopen it as an Opera House, and inherits all the problems that go with it. Including the Opera Ghost. Tempers flare, passion suffocates, and much more.
1. Chapter 1

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

Shoving her glasses further up on her nose, Lenore Parker looked out the window of the taxi at the Opera Populaire. Her first thought was that the Opera House was enormous, but she quickly banished the thought and tore her blue eyes from the beautiful building. _It won't do to have myself gawking like a tourist_, she told herself as she extracted enough money from her wallet to pay the cab driver. After handing over the money, she readjusted the position of the man's white dress shirt she was wearing.

Getting out of the taxi, her suitcase in hand and her laptop in its bag over her shoulder, Lenore approached the man who was waiting on the steps of the Opera House. She had to lift the ankle-length, black skirt up an inch or so; tennis shoes peeked out as she ascended the stairs. She resisted the urge to stare at the building once again, instead focusing on the man. He was barely taller than her height of five feet four inches, and his gray hair was beginning to thin. The man had a good bit of weight on him, and his glasses were thick. Monsieur Pierre Beaumont seemed pleased to see her.

"Good day," she greeted. "Monsieur Beaumont, I presume?"

"Bonjour," he replied, his voice overflowing with excitement. "Mademoiselle Parker, correct?"

"Yes, that's me," Lenore answered, stating the obvious. _Why are you so excited? It's natural for you to have that fake smile on your face, hoping to sell me a building this large, but…Something's not right. You shouldn't be this pleased._ She offered her right hand to Monsieur Beaumont with her own fake smile, though very few would ever know it was false.

Monsieur Beaumont took her hand and quickly kissed the back of it. "I hope the day finds you well, Mademoiselle Parker," he began, trying to make a good first impression. "We should move inside; there is much to see."

Once inside the door, Lenore set her suitcase and laptop down, deciding to leave them by the door rather than tote them around with her through the Opera House. The entrance hall was most certainly breathtaking; the marble floors were in almost perfect condition, and the statues were like new.

"The last owners did an extensive amount of repairs," Monsieur Beaumont explained, noting her surprise at the building's excellent condition. "The worst problem you'll have with this building is dust," he chuckled. His laugh was a nervous one, and made Lenore curious as to what was being hidden from her. "Let's move along, there's much to see."

Lenore tucked her dirty blonde hair behind her ears so that it wouldn't fall in her face and obscure her view. It fell down her back to right above her shoulder blades, but the moment she turned her head to look to around, her hair stubbornly slid over her shoulder and she threw it back to its former position. She repeated the process for several minutes, finally conceding and deciding to just let it hang wherever it wanted, provided it stayed out of her eyes.

Monsieur Beaumont led her first to the manager's office, followed by the ballet dormitories. A laundry room, used for washing out costumes, had been remodeled and had a row of washers and dryers installed. Lenore began to lose herself, being led from one hallway to another.

"This, Mademoiselle Parker, is the entrance to the vaults and cellar. I doubt you'll have any use for it; I'd avoid it if I were you. Very dark down there, and with all the passageways, it's easy to become lost," Monsieur Beaumont advised.

"What if I did need to use it? Aren't there lights down there?" she inquired.

"No, Mademoiselle," the man said quickly. "Come along, there's more to see."

"Could you please just call me Lenore instead of Mademoiselle?" Lenore asked. It was more of a command than a question. "Why aren't there any lights down there?" she persisted.

"I do not know," Monsieur Beaumont answered nervously. "I was merely told that there were no lights in the areas below the Opera House when the previous owners asked me to sell it for them."

"Well, that doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't they have put in lights down there?" Lenore puzzled aloud, putting a foot on the first step leading down into the infinite darkness.

"Mademoiselle, it's dangerous," the man cried, grabbing Lenore's arm and pulling her back up off the stairs. "You could slip and break your neck on those dark stairs."

"It's Lenore," the girl harshly corrected him; she was not at all pleased that he would not comply with her wishes and call her by her first name. "And I want to know what's down there. Is there something down there you don't want me to see?"

"Mademoi – Lenore, I fear for your safety. I do not wish to have to call an ambulance because you fell down the stairs and injured yourself," Monsieur Beaumont assured her. His eyes looked too nervous for Lenore to believe him, but she did not press the issue.

"Alright, let's continue then," Lenore said calmly as if nothing out of the ordinary had transpired over the past few minutes. Monsieur Beaumont gave an almost inaudible sigh of relief as he proceeded to lead her on.

* * *

"…easy to become lost," the foolish Monsieur Beaumont was saying to the young lady.

The man cloaked in the darkness on the stairs leading below the building smiled. It seemed they had found another poor soul who desired to buy his Opera House. The girl was rather tiny, it seemed, but her loose clothes hid too much of her frame for him to be certain. Her blue eyes studied the darkness, as if she hoped to see everything it concealed. Her hair swayed forward, slipping over her shoulder as she put a foot on the first stair.

Beaumont grabbed the girl's arm and yanked her back into the corridor, telling her it was dangerous. "You could slip and break your neck on those dark stairs," he lied.

_You mean she might run into a ghost down here and have her neck broken by him_, the man thought with another smile.

"It's Lenore," the girl snarled, obviously desiring to be called by her first name. "And I want to know what's down there. Is there something down there you don't want me to see?"

_No, girl, there's someone down here he doesn't wish you to see. _The two continued on, and the man in the shadows decided to follow them; this girl might prove to be amusing.

* * *

"…replaced all the old ropes and such," Monsieur Beaumont was explaining as they stood in the house, looking at the stage.

"Well, let's go backstage and have a look at it then," Lenore sighed, tired of his long explanations. It seemed he was trying to keep her from going backstage, just as he had kept her from going down below the Opera House.

"In a few moments," Beaumont assured her before continuing to ramble about anything he could think of that related to this room. "Also, the previous owners had a large LCD screen installed. They intended to turn this place into a private movie theater. Speakers have been installed, hidden very well in the artwork and walls so as not to destroy the look of the room. All you need to do is to hook up a computer or DVD player backstage."

"Really?" Lenore inquired, finally interested in what the man was saying.

"Yes, Mademoiselle, and then you flip a switch, and the screen descends over the stage. Now, if I could direct your attention to"-

"Let's go backstage," Lenore insisted, taking a few steps down the aisle. If the only way she was going to see behind the stage was to vault over the pit area and climb onto the stage, so be it.

Beaumont sighed. "As you wish, Mademoiselle. Please follow me." He led her backstage, nervously looking around as though he expected to see a ghost.

"What's wrong, Monsieur?" Lenore chuckled. "Afraid of the Opera Ghost?"

Beaumont whipped his head around to look at her, staring at her a brief moment before giving a chuckle himself. "So you know about that," he said, sounding relieved.

"Who doesn't?" Lenore scoffed.

"I assure you, it's only a story, though, Mademoiselle," Beaumont responded.

_Only a story? Then why are you so tense? _Lenore bit her lip, as she always did when she was trying to piece together puzzling words and actions. "Think he's still around?" Lenore said, hoping to gain a few more pieces for her mental jigsaw from his answer.

"Well, it's been over a hundred years from when the story originated," Beaumont said vaguely.

"In other words, you don't want to answer my question," Lenore muttered under her breath.

"Don't worry yourself about it, it **is** just a story after all," Beaumont told her, giving her a polite smile.

"If you say so, Monsieur."

* * *

Beaumont was choosing his words carefully. Standing right behind them in the shadows, the Opera Ghost was looking over Lenore. She was a bright woman, already putting pieces together to figure out what Beaumont was hiding.

"Think he's still around?" Lenore inquired.

_Right behind you, mademoiselle_. The Phantom was tempted to speak to this woman. He wondered if he would get a rise out of her; she seemed calm, but perhaps, deep inside, she was afraid of the Opera Ghost.

"It **is**just a story after all," Beaumont assured her.

"If you say so, Monsieur." The comment was meant to sound sincere, but the Phantom detected disbelief lurking behind her words. He trailed along behind the two as they toured the backstage areas.

"So what are your plans for the building, mademoiselle?" Beaumont finally asked her.

"Reopen it. As an Opera House," Lenore returned.

That was exactly what the Opera Ghost wanted to hear; he was sick of owners trying to turn it into a museum or a private residence. It was rather bothersome to have to rid his Opera House of such pests. Deciding Lenore would be an acceptable owner, he retired to his lair.


	2. Chapter 2

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

A few hours later, Lenore was standing in a phone booth on the streets of Paris, listening to the ringing that sounded so far away. She didn't have to wait long; the person she was calling picked up almost immediately. 

"Lenore?" the young woman said.

"It's ours," Lenore replied, not even bothering to greet her sister, Ember, properly.

"You bought it?" Ember shrieked. "Rosalyn, she bought it…" Ember continued to converse somewhat shrilly with others for the next few moments before returning her focus to the phone conversation. "We'll start packing things up and sending them over."

"The place needs a thorough cleaning," Lenore warned. "I don't think the three of us will be able to manage it alone. Do me a favor and call Jamie, Kathleen, and Lily and Brad. See if they'll come over and help out."

"Sure, no problem," her sister said. "When do you want us to come?"

"Within the next few days, preferably. Just to give you an opportunity to look it over and help with the cleaning," Lenore answered.

"We won't be able to get everything together in that amount of time."

"Well, you'll just have to go back after we get the Opera House all cleaned up and take care of it. If it's a concern on money, I'll pay for your tickets," Lenore offered.

Once business had been settled with Ember, Lenore caught a cab and returned to the Opera House. As it was now legally hers, Lenore figured she should save herself the cost of a hotel by spending the nights in her new business. Walking up the stairs to the entrance, a feeling of pride stirred within her. _My own business._ A smile came over her lips as she unlocked the door with the key Monsieur Beaumont had given her.

Stepping over the threshold, she sighed contentedly, putting her suitcase and laptop down on the marble floor and closing the door behind her. Lenore shut her eyes and leaned back against the door, a smile crossing her lips as she savored the moment.

"_Lenore._"

Her eyes shot open. It had been soft, almost inaudible. She tried to remember where the light switch for the entrance hall was, but her memory failed her and she was stuck in the darkness. Alone. With a stranger who knew her name.

"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded herself softly, taking a deep breath. "'Let my heart be still a moment, and this mystery explore. 'Tis the wind, and nothing more'," she quoted. She retrieved her suitcase and laptop, then started off towards the diva's private suite. The black hallways spooked her, and she was certain she heard footsteps following her more than once.

When she had situated herself in the diva's suite, she laughed at her earlier fears. _I can't believe I thought there was someone in this place with me! I can be such a silly goose sometimes. _Looking around the room, Lenore gave a satisfied nod. Her laptop was set up on a desk, and her brush was on the vanity. The clothes she had packed for the trip were tucked away neatly in drawers, and a small alarm clock was set next to the bed.

Lenore turned off all the lamps in the room except the one on the desk, and then sat down to her laptop. Moments later, she was immersed in figuring out how much money she'd have left after taking the cost of the Opera Populaire out of her accounts. It would certainly put a huge dent in her funds. Sighing, she closed her eyes, briefly hoping that she could afford to pay a staff to perform an opera before she went bankrupt.

"_Lenore…_" came the voice again. But she refused to listen and kept her tired eyes closed, since it could only be her mind playing tricks on her. When she finally did open her eyes, she saw an envelope on her desk. It looked old, and was sealed with wax. Her hand trembling, Lenore opened the envelope.

Mademoiselle Lenore,

I welcome you to my Opera House. Upon reopening, you will leave Box 5 empty for my use. I also wish to make you aware that my monthly salary of three hundred eighty five thousand francs is due. I remain, Mademoiselle, your humble servant,

O. G.

Doing a few quick conversions, Lenore determined that he was asking for the equivalent of fifty thousand U.S. dollars a month. _I can't afford that and pay a staff too! This is impossible! The Phantom of the Opera did exist, is still alive, and is asking me to pay him fifty thousands dollars a month? Wait, this is probably all a dream. I'll wake up on the plane to France; I'll bet I haven't even seen the Opera Populaire yet._ She desperately willed herself to wake up, but to no avail.

"This is ridiculous," she hissed, reading over the letter again. "Even if I could get enough money together, how do I make sure he gets it? It's not like he's got a mailbox for me to drop it in." Lenore ran a hand through her short hair in frustration. _Now I know how Andre and Firmin felt._ _Just keep it together. It'll work out in the end…it has to, or we'll be out of business before we even open._ Laying the letter back down on the desk, Lenore decided to retire for the evening.

* * *

Hours after the room had been dark, he slid open the mirror and crept into the room. On the desk sat the letter he had left her. He could see that she had opened it. Certain that his demands had been made known, he turned his attention to the girl in the bed. 

Lenore lay on her side, curled up in a ball. _What are you protecting yourself from, Mademoiselle?_ She moaned softly, rolling over onto her back. "…fire…" she mumbled, as though she had heard his silent question. "Get me out!" she suddenly screamed, sitting bolt upright.

* * *

Lenore hadn't had that nightmare for a few months. She was hoping that it was behind her, but it seemed she was wrong. Sitting in her bed, trying to calm her racing heart, she looked around her room. Without her glasses, it was mostly dark blurs shaped like furniture. When her eyes came across the tall, dark figure of a man, she screamed. 

"Who are you?" Lenore inquired, her voice shaking. _I'm going to die, some murderer or rapist is in my room. I am going to die!_ Still on her bed, she scooted herself as far from the mysterious man as possible, pushing herself up against the wall.

"_Afraid of the Opera Ghost, Lenore?_" the man's voice replied with a chuckle.

For the first time in her life, words failed her. Lenore merely stared, wishing she wasn't so blind without her glasses. She couldn't make out anything, except the fact that he was tall. _Pull yourself together, girl. It's only a dream. What's there to be scared of? If it's not a dream, you're making a complete idiot of yourself…_ "I'm not afraid," she finally managed to squeak out.

The Phantom laughed at that. "_Of course you aren't. That's why you're flat against the wall._" Lenore averted her eyes, a slight blush creeping onto her cheeks. "_Did you really think that timid lie was going to work when you delivered it so poorly?_"

Lenore refused to answer that. Regaining some of her usual courage, she changed the subject. "Are you some sort of pervert who came in here to watch me sleep? Or did you want something?"

"_I merely wish to make sure my manager knows her position. I expect my salary to be paid in full by the end of the week,_" he responded, ignoring her accusation.

Quite suddenly, the Opera Ghost disappeared from Lenore's sight. She clicked on the closest light and shoved her glasses onto her nose. It was useless; the room was empty. _I didn't dream that. I couldn't have. This is all real…and I'm in big trouble. What am I going to do? I could call the police tomorrow evening after Beaumont has contacted the phone company…yeah, that'll go over well. "Hello, I'm the new owner of the Opera Populaire and I need to you come over here and kill a ghost for me."_ _This is bad, this is very bad…_

* * *

The alarm clock was silenced mere seconds after it went off. Lenore rolled out of bed, exhausted. She had left the light on all night to discourage the Phantom from returning to her room. However, it quite effectively kept Lenore awake at the same time. 

Minutes later, Lenore was dressed in baggy jeans and a loose shirt, ready to clean, though she didn't know where to begin. Rolling up her sleeves, she decided it would be best to start with the kitchen, as that would probably see the most use in the next few days.

The first thing she saw in the kitchen was an envelope sealed with wax on the counter. "Oh great," she mumbled sarcastically. "I was hoping there'd be more expectations for me." She slid open the flap and pulled out the parchment.

Dear Lenore,

I took the liberty of going to market for you. Dishes are above the sink, and utensils are in the drawer to your right. Cleaning supplies are located in the closet in the corner. The total expense comes to six hundred and fifty francs. Have it to me by the end of the week with my salary.

Also, I recommend that you turn the light off at night. It seems you cannot sleep well with it on, and you will need your rest if you expect to run an Opera House. I remain, Mademoiselle, your humble servant,

O. G.

Lenore thumped her head against the nearest cabinet in exasperation. "I owe him more money…I should start selling my internal organs if I ever want to be able to pay him," she muttered. "Well, might as well have something to eat, it might be the last time I get to use my stomach before I have to oust it." She riffled through the cabinets, searching for coffee and breakfast foods. Ten minutes later, she had the coffee maker brewing a cup while she polished off a donut.

Lenore spent the next three hours giving the kitchen a thorough cleaning, sipping coffee every few minutes or so to keep herself awake. Finally done, she took a seat at the table and pondered what to do next. A loud bell sounded and she jumped a mile. "What the bloody…" she trailed off.

"_Someone at the door, Mademoiselle._"

"I didn't know we had a doorbell," Lenore commented, rising from her chair.

The delivery boy was checking his list when Lenore opened the door. "Lenore Parker?" he inquired.

"If you've come to give me a bill, then no," she replied.

"I have a few packages for you, Mademoiselle," the boy told her, handing her a form to sign. Scribbling her name on the line, Lenore prayed that at least one box contained a weapon of some sort with which to defend herself at night.

Once all the boxes were unloaded and the door shut behind the delivery boy, Lenore sat down on the marble floor and went through every last box, looking for a long-range weapon. "Nothing," she mumbled morosely. It was foolish to think that there would be one, but hope springs eternal. "And this is just another reminder that I should never be optimistic; I only end up disappointed." She stood up and tried to pick up the smallest box, which contained clothes, but it was too heavy for her. _Who knew clothes could weigh so much? I'll just have to make a few trips._ Taking an armload of clothes, she headed for her room.

Dropping the clothes on her bed, she turned around to head back out. She caught sight of a black cloak disappearing out the doorway, and the box she had failed to lift sitting just inside her door. "This is very nice of him," Lenore commented softly to herself. "He'll probably ask to be paid for this too." She began putting clothes away in drawers. Every time she turned to face the door, she saw the cloak disappearing and found another box on the floor.

A slip of paper rested inside each box, telling her whose belongings it contained. She sorted these boxes into three piles; Ember's things, Rosalyn's things, and her own. Then she proceeded to unpack her boxes, arranging knick knacks on surfaces around the room and stuffing clothes into drawers or hanging them in the closet.

"I need some food," Lenore determined when she finished unpacking, around four in the afternoon. She was far too tired to cook, and calling out for Chinese seemed like a good idea. "I wonder if I've got phone service yet…" Beaumont had told her he would contact the phone company today and have them reconnect the lines of the Opera House. Having no phone in the diva's suite, she had to walk down the hall to the kitchen. There was probably a phone somewhere closer than the kitchen, but she couldn't remember the layout of the Opera House yet. The most she had committed to memory was how to get to her room from the entrance hall, the kitchen from her room, and the entrance hall from the kitchen.

Lenore was stunned to find a plate of steaming hot food on the table when she set foot in the kitchen. She stood in the doorway, staring.

"_Dinner is served, Mademoiselle._"

His words brought her back to her senses. She sat down at the table, examining the meal in front of her. Roast beef, potatoes, some sort of beans, and a glass of red wine. _I guess the wine's not that big a problem; I am legal to drink over here._ _And he couldn't possibly know I have a thing against alcohol, so it would be rude not to drink it…_

"I think that's the best meal I've ever had," Lenore commented softly when she finished. She had left nothing on her plate, and her glass was empty. "'After all, miss, this is France. And a dinner here is never second best'," she sang quietly, thinking of Disney's Beauty and the Beast. After washing dishes, she decided to go back to her room and lay down; the wine had made her lightheaded, as it was her first time drinking wine.

Once in her room, she turned on her laptop, put all her music into her media player, hit shuffle, and let it play while she laid on her bed, waiting for the dizziness to subside. The play list was incredibly diverse; she had pop, country, soundtracks, classical, rock, instrumental, and even some rap.

* * *

It was trash. How she could possibly like the noise that qualified as music these days was beyond him. The Phantom was about to retire to his lair and spare his ears any more injury when he heard the opening of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. It seemed she did have some good taste, limited though it may be. 

"Any particular reason you're stalking me?" Lenore inquired suddenly. "I may not be able to see you, but I know you're there. You've been watching me all day." He refused to respond to her question; he did not answer to this scrap of a girl who intended to run his Opera House. "Fine, be that way. I'll just assume you're a perverted old man and leave it at that."

* * *

_Come on, talk to me. Doesn't it bother you that I just called you old and perverted? Just say something, anything. Insult me, call me names, anything!_ Lenore was screaming at him inside her mind. She was fine with solitude, but if she knew someone else was around, she wanted that person to talk to her, to be companionable. "You're a wonderful conversationalist," she remarked dryly, sitting up in her bed. The lightheadedness from the wine had finally left her. 

"_What do you wish to discuss, Mademoiselle?_" His voice conveyed a slight irritation.

"Well…" Lenore said, pondering over what they could discuss. "Let's discuss how you're still alive. You should be dead by now; you're over a hundred years old." Silence dominated the room for a few minutes. "Okay, obviously you don't want to talk about that." She sighed heavily; making conversation shouldn't be this difficult. "Could you at least come out of hiding?"

A few minutes passed without a response. Suddenly the bed shifted beneath her. She began to turn around. "_Turn and I will kill you._" Lenore stopped, and faced forward again, trembling slightly due to his threat.

"This is a bit awkward," Lenore mumbled a few moments later. "I don't know anything about you, you don't know anything about me…and here we are, sitting in the same room, on the same bed, and I'm not even allowed to face in your direction."

"_Would you please silence that racket?_"

"You mean turn off my music?" She stood and headed for the desk.

"_If that compilation of horrendous sounds can be called music._"

"If you think this is bad, you should hear some heavy metal," Lenore replied with a chuckle, going over to her laptop and shutting it off for the night. _Wait, I can't get back to the bed without facing him, which will get me killed._ She was just about to mention this when an arm snaked around her waist. He gently tugged her back, step by step, to the bed. Panic gripped Lenore; she knew the Phantom could easily kill her if it suited his purposes. While she had been loose there was the slight possibility that she could outrun him to the door and escape, should she need to. Now, however, with his arm around her waist, there was no hope.

They had reached the bed, and the Phantom pulled her down onto his lap, her back resting against his chest. "_Why do you hide in such loose clothing?_"

"Does it really matter?" she returned, fighting back the surge of emotions that flooded her body. Part of her was terrified, and for good reason. But another part of her was melting, commanding her not to move, to stay in his embrace for eternity. Even if it meant nothing to him, she enjoyed the attention and the feeling of being held by a man.

"_How do you intend to find a husband if you do not show your figure?_"

Lenore thought a moment before answering that; she was seriously contemplating lying to him, but she decided he would see through it in an instant. "No one would want me; therefore, it doesn't really matter. So I figure I might as well wear comfortable clothes rather than going to extreme pains in the attempt to attract guys who won't even look at me. I'd just end up alone and disappointed. If I have to be alone, might as well be happy about it; as happy as I can be, anyway."

"_How old are you?_" he inquired.

"A gentleman never asks for a lady's age."

"_I am not a gentleman, I am a ghost. How old are you?_"

"Almost twenty one," Lenore answered with a sigh. She only told him because she was certain she would be killed for refusing to respond.

"_Surely you've had scores of suitors by now._"

"Yeah right," she muttered sarcastically.

"_Do you mean to tell me that your parents have not yet attempted to have you married?_"

"Parents don't do that anymore where I come from," Lenore said. "Not in the way you mean. Who and when you marry is your own choice. And no one ever has or ever will want me. End of story."

"_What makes you think that?_"

"Look at me! I'm ugly," she snapped. "By today's standards, I fall incredibly far from being beautiful. Glasses alone are enough to condemn a girl. But then I had to be built small too. My entire outward appearance suggests a nerdy little weakling who is in no way desirable."

"_Perhaps if you made an attempt to_"-

"No!" Lenore interrupted, momentarily forgetting her precarious position. "If there's one thing I insist upon, it's that people only see me as they want to see me. And all the boys I've ever met want to see a small ugly geek who loves math, music, and acting. So I put those masks on for them. They didn't even realize that I'd put on masks! They didn't care at all. They saw what they expected to see, so they turned their eyes elsewhere. I was only worth talking to if you needed help with your homework, or if no one was around to catch you talking with a geek like me and ruin your reputation. You should understand better than anyone that society is cruel and the only way to survive is to wear masks, cover your vulnerabilities and hide yourself from them."

There was a moment's silence, letting her last words ring throughout the room. "_What masks do you put on for me?_" the Phantom asked.

"Ask yourself that question," Lenore replied. "If you know what you want to see in me, then you know what masks I put on."

"_I wish to see more of you. I have already seen the part of you that has enough sense to abandon pride and stubbornness in my presence, the part that tells you to be afraid and obey me. I have also glimpsed the part of you that desires me._" He moved his hand up her side, gently caressing her breast. "_However, there is more that you have not yet shown me. I will strip you of your masks, Mademoiselle, have no doubt of that._"

Her eyes had slid closed when his hand reached her breast, delight and desire suffocating her. Then, something felt…off. Not wrong, but certainly not normal either. A sense of peace filled her; underneath she was aware of another presence in her mind. "What are you doing to me?" Lenore whispered before falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

He laid her out on her bed and pulled the covers up to her shoulders. Lenore was exhausted, and she needed her rest if she intended to get anything done tomorrow, so he had induced sleep. He removed her glasses from her face, setting them on the nightstand. The Phantom wrapped up the last of his business aboveground, left a note where Lenore would find it, and returned to his lair. 


	3. Chapter 3

So, turns out I'm a major idiot, cuz I didn't edit the last two chapters correctly and all my page breaks were removed…again…yeah, finally got it now though. Just so you know, when the Phantom speaks in italics, it means he cannot be seen. Anything else in italics are thoughts.

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.) I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

Lenore yawned and stretched, slowly waking from pleasant dreams. "Tricksy Phantom, putting me to sleep," she mumbled as she rolled out of bed and put her glasses on. She dragged herself over to the dresser and opened a drawer that she had placed countless over-sized shirts in. The drawer was far too light; her shirts were missing and a sealed envelope lay in their place. "Now what?"

Lenore,

I have confiscated all of your ridiculously loose clothing. It is unbecoming of a woman to wear such garments and therefore, you will not be permitted to put on such attire when in my Opera House. I remain your humble servant,

O. G.

"You have no right to take my clothes! That's called stealing!" Lenore snapped angrily, glaring at his letter. Mumbling about controlling men, Lenore went over to her closet. True to his word, she could find no loose jeans. Her closet was practically empty without her baggy clothes. Continuing to complain under her breath, Lenore finally picked out a tight, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of skin-tight pants. "I need to go buy new clothes," Lenore grumbled, noting that the shirt was extremely stretched across her small bosom. Of course, purchasing anything that was a size too large was completely out of the question; the Phantom would confiscate it at the first opportunity.

Lenore spent the morning cleaning the halls she used most frequently, which meant the halls that connected her room, the kitchen, and the entrance hall. She was sitting on the stairs in the entrance hall when the doorbell rang.

"A package for Madam Lenore Parker," the delivery boy said, his eyes glued to his clipboard.

"Mademoiselle Parker," she corrected, holding out her hand for the clipboard. She scribbled her name as the lad retrieved a small box from his truck. Taking the box from him, she happily noted that she could easily carry this one. Shutting the door behind her, she promptly hurried to her room to see what Ember and Rosalyn had sent today.

The box was about 10 x 7 inches, with a depth of maybe 5 inches. Lifting the flaps of the box, Lenore saw a letter perched on top of a teddy bear she knew all too well. She opened the letter and held it with one hand for reading, while picking up the bear with the other.

Lenore,

Hope everything's going well at the opera house. Rosalyn and I came across Monet today, and we thought maybe you'd want him there for company. But perhaps we're wrong. You may have been making friends with a certain Opera Ghost… If only he were real…

Anyway, just wanted to let you know that everyone agreed to come help, and we'll be there on June 6th. Our flight leaves Washington D.C. at 4:45 p.m. on the 5th, and lands in Toronto Canada at 6:19 p.m. Then we leave Toronto at 8:25 p.m. and land in Paris at the Charles de Gaulle airport at 10:00 a.m. on the 6th. Our flight number is Air Canada 880. You should check with the airport to see if our flight was delayed before coming to greet us. See you then,

Ember.

"So they'll be here in two days. I'll have to clean out some rooms for them to stay in," Lenore said, smiling at the thought of having more sociable company in the Opera House. She looked at the soft, fuzzy, chocolate brown bear in her hand. "Well Monet, we've got a lot to do, don't we? I'm sure you'll be of little help, like always. But at least I don't have to worry about you stealing my clothes." She laid the bear on the bed next to her pillow, deposited the letter on her desk, and went to the kitchen to make herself lunch.

Due to her lack of culinary abilities, Lenore slapped together a sandwich and polished it off in a few minutes. _He hasn't been watching me since about an hour ago, when I was cleaning. Maybe I should see if I can't find my clothes…surely he's just hidden them somewhere in the Opera House that I don't normally visit._ Hoping she was right, she began to wander, taking corridors that were only vaguely familiar to her from Beaumont's tour.

Lenore didn't bother checking any of the rooms, because she somehow knew she wouldn't find her clothes in any of them. After a half hour of meandering through the corridors, Lenore was lost…sort of. She knew where she was (she was at the head of the stairs leading into the cellar and vaults), but she didn't know where her position was in correlation with any of the halls or rooms she was familiar with.

_Beaumont told me not to go down there…because of the Phantom. But now that I've met him, it's not dangerous…I don't think. Anyway, I'm only looking for my clothes, which I wouldn't be doing if he hadn't stolen them, and it's not like I'm trying to find him to kill him or something. If I'm careful, he won't even know I'm down here._

She descended the stairs as quietly as possible, trying not to panic. It was pitch black and she could barely see more than a few feet in front of her. The further down she went, the more worried she became. Lenore couldn't see any light from the hallway anymore, and her sight was so limited that she might as well not be wearing her glasses. A horrible stench became stronger as she went further, and she was not sure she wanted to know what produced it. Finally the steps ended, and, with one hand on the wall, she began to tiptoe along the dark underground of the Opera House. Lenore had only gone about twenty feet when she was slammed up against the wall.

"_You tread on dangerous ground, Mademoiselle,_" the Phantom hissed at her, invisible in the blackness around them. His hands had pinned her arms to the wall, but dressed in dark colors, she could not see him at all.

"I was looking for my clothes," she replied. "The ones you stole. And why should it be dangerous for me to be down here? I'm not a threat to you. What am I gonna do, talk you to death?"

"_I do not tolerate anyone venturing into the underground. The previous owner's daughter, Ellen, is strung up not thirty paces away from us._"

That accounted for the awful smell overwhelming Lenore's nose. "Are you going to hang me next to her?" Lenore asked bitterly.

"_Do you wish me to?_"

"Well, if you're going to hang me, yes. If I have to rot on a rope in a cellar, I might as well have company. Otherwise my corpse might get lonely," she joked.

"_Before we address your fate, I'd like to inquire about this,_" he said, releasing one of her arms to pull something from a pocket. He held it a few inches in front of her nose.

"It's a piece of paper," Lenore informed him.

"_Do not be cheeky with me, child._"

"Well, I can't see it very bloody well in the dark!" she snapped.

"_It's a letter, addressed to you and signed by someone named Ember. 'Everyone agreed to help, and we'll be there on June 6th.' How many people have you had the audacity to invite to my Opera House, girl?_"

"Ember's my sister," Lenore informed him. "And I asked some friends to come and help me clean it up. I can't really afford to pay a staff to clean it, especially if you expect to get paid."

"_How many?_" he repeated.

"Let's see…Kathleen, Jaime, Lily, her husband Brad, Ember, and Rosalyn, that's…six," she responded. "Can we address my fate now? I don't know if I can take the suspense."

"_If you continue to sass me, you will find yourself dangling before you have the chance to apologize._"

"I'm such a pain, aren't I?" Lenore snarled. "See, this is me. Straight up, no masks whatsoever. And nobody likes it. That's why I have to put on masks; otherwise people don't like me, bloody mother f#ckers."

His hand was on her throat the instant she let her last word out. He tightened his grip until she could barely get any oxygen in her lungs. "_A lady does not use such vulgar, common language. If I ever hear that word again, I will cut your tongue out. Is that clear?_" The Phantom loosened his grip enough to allow her to choke out a 'yes'. "_If you come down here again, I will not be merciful. Should any of your guests set foot down here, you'll not see them again, so I advise you to keep them far from the stairs. Unless you'd like poor Ellen to have some company._" He released her.

"I, uh, don't know how to get back to my room from the stairs," Lenore mentioned, hoping to get instructions. Silence haunted the underground, and Lenore began to wonder if he was already long gone, assuming she could find her way back by herself.

"_Come._" A gloved hand slipped into Lenore's and began pulling her along through the infinite darkness. When they passed Ellen (or what was left of her), Lenore struggled to keep from retching at the stench. She was relieved when they had gone far enough into the Phantom's black realm to leave that sickening odor behind them. He led her up a flight of stairs and opened a door. The light blinded her momentarily, and before her eyes had a chance to adjust and catch a glimpse of the Opera Ghost, he shoved her past him into the room.

She heard the door shut behind her. Turning around, she looked at where the door had to be. There was no evidence whatsoever of a door in the wall, but she knew it was there now. Surveying the room revealed to her that the Phantom had brought her to the kitchen. _I certainly know my way back now. What in the world was I thinking, going down those stairs? Now he's pissed off at me, and that's the absolute last thing I needed. Then I had to go and mention paying him, which I can't possibly manage. He's certainly not going to forget about it if I bring it up. Stupid!_

Afternoon became evening, evening turned to night, night gave way to dawn, and the next day passed quickly. Lenore cleaned the other rooms along her hall for her friends' use, rather upset that she did not once feel the Phantom's eyes upon her. His absence made her worry that she had upset him more than she knew and he was plotting some dastardly deed that would land his wrath on one of her friends. She fell into bed that night, envisioning her friends sitting on a plane, laughing and discussing how they would react to meeting the Phantom if he was real. _If I could tell them one thing - no, better yet, two things, it would be that he is real and you aren't going to react the way you say you will. I certainly didn't. I was going to be accepting and make friends…instead, I screamed and flattened myself against a wall._

Lenore awoke on June 6th to the sound of her alarm clock beeping itself to death. If the clock could put emotion into its beeping, it would most likely have been chipper and excited, pleased that it got to wake her up at a time when she wanted to be sleeping. She groaned and turned it off, rolling out of bed and jamming her glasses onto her nose. The first thing she noticed was a beautiful royal blue dress from the 1880s, laid out on her chair with another wax sealed envelope.

Lenore,

Consider this dress as compensation for the clothing I have taken from you. This dress is far more appropriate a garment for a young lady.

O. G.

Excitedly, Lenore quickly put the dress on. It fit perfectly, feeling as though it had been tailor-made for her and her alone. "I'm so going to the airport in this," she squealed happily. She didn't care if other people stared at her. She liked the outfit, and she felt it would be rude not to wear it, as though she didn't appreciate his gift.

At ten o'clock, she found herself standing in the airport, waiting anxiously in her new dress for her friends. _They might not recognize me in this get up. It's not my normal fashion, after all._ Strangers filed past her, giving her a curious glance or two before continuing on their way. Then she spotted a familiar head of red hair. A smile graced her face as her sister and friends fought their way out of the tide of passengers to her side.

"Lenore? Is that you?" Ember shrieked, running over to give her sister a hug. Ember stood two inches higher than her sister's height of five foot four. Her hair, red from roots to her shoulders, then black from there down to the tips at mid-thigh, was pulled back into a ponytail, clearly struggling against the ribbon to get loose. Ember's eyes, green today (matching her shirt), scanned her sister from head to toe. "Look at you! Wearing period clothing instead of those awful huge clothes that swallow you!"

"Lenore, hi," Kathleen Devlin said, hurrying over with Lily Campbell on her heels. Kathleen's dark brown eyes were bright with joy at seeing her friend, and her dark hair brushed her shoulders. She was the same height as Lenore. Lily, on the other hand, was two inches shorter. Lily had brown hair, caught in a loose braid that fell just past her waist. Her blue eyes were behind glasses today instead of the usual contacts.

The other three members of the party hung back, waiting to be noticed. Jamie McKay, in her usual boys' jeans and hockey jersey, stood next to Brad Campbell. After all, Jamie believed boys should stick together when in a large group of girls. Her brown hair was cut boyishly short in an attempt to emphasize the fact that Jamie considered herself one of the guys rather than one of the girls. Her brown eyes looked uninterestedly around the terminal.

Brad Campbell stood at attention, something he had picked up in the Reserves. He was the tallest of the group at a height of five foot eight. Stylish glasses covered his alert eyes, looking around the airport for any sign of trouble. His dark hair was cut short, so as not to get in his way.

Rosalyn Kendall was just an inch shorter than Brad. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail, stopping midway down her back. Her green eyes studied the outfit Lenore wore with intense suspicion.

"Brad, Jamie, Rosalyn, it's great to see all of you. You have no idea what it's like to be cooped up in an Opera House for three days straight," Lenore remarked.

"Where'd you get that dress?" Rosalyn inquired.

"Oh, found it in the Opera House," Lenore answered casually. It wasn't exactly a lie. She just neglected to mention that the Phantom gave it to her. The best way to keep her friends safe was to keep the Phantom's presence a secret. She'd have to tell Rosalyn and Ember eventually, as they would be co-managing the Opera House with her, but it could wait.

"It's in great condition," Rosalyn continued.

"Yeah, I was amazed when I saw it. Let's go get your luggage," she said, quickly changing the subject.

* * *

He knew the moment they entered the Opera House; her friends were so loud, it wasn't possible **not** to hear them.

"It's gorgeous!" a girl shrieked.

"Absolutely stunning!" another girl added.

"That's how I felt before I started cleaning," Lenore laughed. She sounded different, more cheerful than normal. _Putting a pleasant mask on for them, Mademoiselle? How rude of you to treat your friends in such a manner._

"It's big," a female voice commented.

"It's a challenge," a male voice corrected. "It's waiting to see if we can clean it or if we'll give up and hire a staff to do it for us."

"It's dark," a young woman said softly.

"Don't worry, I'll figure out where all the light switches are eventually, it won't always be this dark," Lenore assured the woman.

"I want to see the stage," a fifth female commanded. That accounted for the entire group. "How big is it? Is it in good condition or will there be a lot of renovations before we can get an opera going?"

_We? _Perhaps the woman in question was going to be the dance instructor. There seemed to be no other possibility; Lenore was the manager, and had made no mention of having co-managers. He would just have to question her about it later. He moved into a position where he could view the group.

Lenore stood out in the group, wearing the dress he had made for her. She kept subconsciously smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles, communicating her pleasure and pride with the garment. The other girls were peering around at the entrance hall, exclaiming over little details. One, a tall blonde, kept looking around, as though she expected someone to jump out and attack her at any moment. She was one to be cautious around, as she seemed more alert than the others. Then there was the man to deal with. He was muscular, and had a certain pride in his stance that vaguely reminded the Phantom of the Vicomte de Chagny. It would take a great deal of self-restraint to refrain from killing the boy for the memories he arose in the Phantom.

* * *

"Is there anyone else here?" Rosalyn said out of the blue.

"What?" Lenore returned, dumbfounded.

"I feel like we're being watched," Rosalyn explained.

"Oh, you're just being paranoid," Lenore said lightly.

"Maybe it's the Phantom of the Opera," Ember exclaimed.

"That's not possible," Jamie countered.

"Yeah, assuming he did exist, he'd be over a hundred and twenty years old," Kathleen added. "No one that old is going to be gallivanting around an Opera House watching us, let me assure you."

"Well, if he ate a balanced diet and exercised every day, it's possible he could. Not probable, but possible," Brad argued.

"Let me show you to your rooms," Lenore interjected, hoping to end the discussion. It seemed that, because she was didn't want to discuss it, all they wanted to talk about was the Phantom. _If I didn't know any better, I'd think they planned it, knowing it would irritate me._ She led them down the hall, wondering if Rosalyn could still feel the eyes of the Opera Ghost following them. _Maybe I should tell Rosalyn and Ember tonight. That way, they might be more willing to drop the subject and keep it from coming up again._ "Alright, Kathleen and Jamie, you guys are sharing this room. I hope that's okay. If we didn't have two pairs in two rooms, we wouldn't all fit in this hall."

"It's fine," Kathleen assured her. "Maybe I'll finally manage to convince Jaime she's a girl."

"That's a load of crap, I'm a boy," Jamie muttered.

"You're a girl," Kathleen insisted.

"Boy," Jamie replied.

"Fine, you're a boy," Kathleen conceded as the two entered their room to unpack their bags.

They continued down the hall until they reached the next door, Brad and Lily's room, and the newlyweds disappeared into their room. Rosalyn was the next to leave, followed by Ember. Finally having a minute to herself, Lenore ducked into her room. She needed to change to be able to clean, and she realized she had to hide the letters the Phantom had sent her.

The letters were no longer on her desktop. Lenore ran over to her desk, examining the floor around it, wondering if she had perhaps knocked them to the floor earlier this morning without realizing it.

"_You won't find them, Mademoiselle. I have taken care of them._"

"Well, that's one worry off my mind," she sighed in relief.

"_Meet me backstage tonight at two o'clock. Come alone._"

"Oh, a secret rendezvous in the middle of the night. How romantic," Lenore joked. His eyes were no longer upon her, so Lenore assumed he went to look in on her friends. _Just stay away from Rosalyn; she's suspicious enough as it is._ She quickly shed her new dress, hanging it on a hanger and putting it in her closet. She pulled out a pair of tight jeans and a small, sleeveless shirt and changed speedily. She didn't know how long her friends would be unpacking; she didn't want them questioning her about what kept her while she was changing. She'd have to come up with a lie then.

"Lenore, are you decent?" Brad called, knocking on her door.

"Yeah, come in," she said, just finishing buttoning her jeans.

"We're all unpacked with the exception of Ember, but she said she'll just finish it tonight," Lily said, coming into the room with Brad, Jamie, Rosalyn, Kathleen, and Ember on her heels.

"What's all this?" Ember inquired, gesturing to Lenore's tight clothes.

"I just feel like being girly, that's all," Lenore mumbled, quickly sliding her closet doors closed before anyone could see how empty her closet was.

"I think it's great that you're finally getting out of those baggy clothes," Lily chirped.

"You're not the only one," Lenore said under her breath, thinking of the Phantom

"What?"

"I said, 'thanks, hun'," Lenore improvised.

"You're welcome," Lily bubbled. "So, the slaves have reported for duty, Master."

"Slaves? Well, I suppose that means you don't expect me to do any work," Lenore reasoned.

"You'll do work," Ember said. "There's no way we're letting you off the hook."

"Hey, I've been cleaning this place for three days already."

"What all did you get done?" Brad inquired.

"The entrance hall, the rooms we're staying in, the kitchen, and the halls connecting the kitchen, entrance hall, and this hallway."

"That's it?" Kathleen grumbled aloud.

"Hey, this place is huge! It's not easy for one person, you know," Lenore defended herself. "I think for the rest of the day, we should work on getting more hallways cleaned. So, we're gonna go to a hallway I haven't cleaned, and then we're each gonna take a hallway branching off that hallway and meet back in that hallway to clean it together. Okay?"

An hour of soapy water and scrubbing later, they met in the hallway they had all branched out from. After a few moments of silent work, a water battle was waged. It had begun when Lily inadvertently splashed Rosalyn. Rosalyn retaliated, but missed Lily and got Kathleen. Then water began flying in every direction. When Lenore attempted to stop it, she got a bucket of dirty water splashed into her face, drenching her instantly, which succeeded in stopping the fight. Everyone looked at the culprit, Brad, who was surely a dead man walking now.

Lenore started beating Brad with the mop in her hand. "How dare you splash me! An innocent bystander trying to keep the peace. I'm the sergeant of this operation, Private! Splashing the sergeant is a sign of dissension in the ranks! I'll not have it! You are to be made an example of!" she shouted, chasing him up and down the hall with her mop.

"No beatings, Sergeant," he cried. "I'll do anything! Push ups, peel potatoes in the galley, anything but the beatings!"

"Alright Private, listen up," she barked, ceasing the chase. She leaned on her mop, waiting for him to stop running and stand at attention. "You're responsible for my work and your own while I'm gone. I want this hall spic n' span when I get back, understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!" he returned with a salute.

Lenore left her friends to cleaning as she went to change into dry clothes. When she returned, she was somewhat surprised to see her friends waiting for her, the hallway practically sparkling behind them.

"We figured if we didn't do as you told us, Sergeant, we'd only get bread and water for dinner," Rosalyn explained with a smile.

"Besides, we'd splashed water on every surface. Made it a lot quicker," Lily added.

Hours later, the group sat around the kitchen table while Jamie cooked dinner, too tired to talk. They had managed to clean every hallway, but it had exhausted them. Jamie finally set plates of food in front of them, and they found the energy to begin speaking.

"What's the itinerary for tomorrow, Sergeant Slavedriver?" Brad asked.

"Glad you asked, Private Dissension," she returned. "We're gonna split up our efforts between the ballet dormitories and the laundry room. All that's left after that is the house and stage area."

"What's my name?" Lily pestered.

"Private Nuisance," Lenore said with a smile. "Kathleen's Private Emo"-

"Yes! I'm the emo one!" Kathleen cheered.

"Rosalyn is Private Goody-Two-Shoes, cuz she doesn't do anything to bother me, and Ember is Private La La Land, cuz her head's always off in the clouds."

"What?" Ember said absently.

"Don't worry about it, La La Land, it wasn't anything bad," Lily teased.

"What about Jamie?" Rosalyn pondered.

"Oh, that's easy. Cook Jamie," Lenore responded.

"I hate you, Jamie. You've been promoted, you're not one of us lowly privates," Brad grumbled.

* * *

"Let's watch a movie," Kathleen suggested as they walked back to their rooms.

"No way, I'm too tired to watch a movie," Ember griped. "It would require me to be awake, and I can't possibly manage it after working for Sergeant Slavedriver."

"You guys are cruel, I wasn't that bad," Lenore whined.

The Phantom listened to them complain about Lenore and how hard she had worked them today. He saw her become more and more withdrawn from the group, eventually giving up entirely on defending herself. _How can you consider these people your friends? They isolate you from the group and criticize you._ Her so-called friends had yet to notice that she had become so reserved. _So you are not truly yourself with them._


	4. Chapter 4

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.) I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

It was almost two o'clock now. Lenore had stayed up, not wanting to set her alarm clock and risk someone hearing it. Creeping out of her room, Lenore padded down the hall in her bare feet, silently cursing herself for not putting on slippers. Her pajama pants were thin, and she shivered slightly as she made her way backstage. Lenore seemed to be there first, though she couldn't be sure he wasn't present. It was so dark; she trembled worriedly, wondering what exactly it was he was up to.

"_You should have put on a robe._"

"I'm fine," Lenore assured him. Naturally the Phantom did not believe her. She felt his cloak being slipped around her shoulders.

"_If you don't take proper care of yourself, you will fall ill, and then who would run the Opera House?_"

"Rosalyn and Ember would," she replied. "They're my co-managers, after all."

"_I will not tolerate them._"

"Look, they're co-managing with me, end of story."

"_This is still my Opera House, child, and it will run according to my wishes._"

"No," Lenore said firmly, hidden courage coming to the surface. "It's my Opera House now, and if I want Rosalyn and Ember to help me, then I have every right to hire them as co-managers."

"_Have it your way; they will be dead within a day._"

"Don't you dare!" Lenore hissed, glaring into the shadows. "You'll only end up hurting yourself that way. I don't know the first thing about running an Opera House. Rosalyn took business classes and has her master's degree in Theatre. Without her, I wouldn't know what operas to perform. And Ember can help me hire a good dance instructor and dance pupils. I need them. Without them, I can't run this place, and if I can't run this place, you don't get paid." _Damnit, I just had to mention his salary again, didn't I?_

"_Why are you so stubborn?_" the Phantom snarled.

"Why are you so vexatious?" Lenore shot back. "You do something nice, and then you counter it by being cruel. You help bring in the boxes and talk to me, and then steal my clothes, slam me into a wall, and threaten to take my life. You give me a dress and then say you'll kill my friend and my sister if they help manage."

"_They are poor companions; they isolate you from the group._"

"No they don't," Lenore whispered uncertainly. "They're my friends."

"_Since when do friends criticize each other so brutally?_"

"It wasn't them, it was me. I just felt like being more introverted for a few minutes, that's all," she insisted, even though she knew what he said was true. _How can you see me better than the people who are closest to me?_

"_Do not lie to me, Lenore._"

She sighed and pulled his cloak tighter about her frame. "It doesn't matter, okay? You don't have to be friends to be business partners," she snapped.

"_I will not have them in my Opera House,_" he hissed at her.

"**My** Opera House," she shouted, stomping her foot. It was a childish reaction, but she didn't particularly care about looking mature at the moment. She was slammed into the wall a few feet behind her, the Phantom's body pressed up against hers. Fear mixed with lust flowed through Lenore. His close proximity intoxicated her, and she suddenly found breathing to be a difficult chore requiring intense concentration. She would be able to see him now, but did she dare look up? The answer was a solid 'no'.

"_You would do well to remember who truly owns this Opera House, child,_" the Phantom growled.

"According to law, that would be me," Lenore replied meekly, her courage gone and her voice wavering.

"Lenore?" Rosalyn's voice called softly through the dark. "Are you back here?"

Lenore froze. She could respond and most likely get Rosalyn killed by the Phantom, or she could stay quiet and wait for Rosalyn to leave. The Phantom quickly wrapped her tightly in his arms, picked her up, and took off, speeding silently through the Opera House. A few seconds later, he was entering her room.

The door reopened a mere moment after he had closed it. "Lenore, where were you? You had Rosalyn and me in a panic," Ember demanded. She inhaled sharply as she saw her sister held hostage, cold steel pressed against Lenore's neck.

"_Speak of this to anyone, Mademoiselle, and your sister's life will pay the price,_" the Phantom informed Ember.

"I won't speak a word," Ember promised.

He released Lenore and disappeared into the shadows. Ember clicked on the lights, but the Opera Ghost was nowhere to be found. Lenore sat on the edge of her bed, waiting for Ember's reaction.

"How long have you known he's here?" Ember finally asked.

"Since the first night," Lenore answered.

"And you didn't mention anything to anyone…Are you trying to get yourself killed or something?"

"He's never put a knife to my throat before," Lenore said defensively. "He did threaten to hang me and cut out my tongue, but other than that…I mean, we haven't had dinner together or anything, but I think we might have a special connection. We met, I screamed, he demanded money…all the classic beginnings of a romance."

"Don't joke about this," Ember reprimanded. "How much money does he want?"

"Fifty thousand U.S. dollars a month, and first payment's due tomorrow."

"Fifty thousand? There's no way we've got that…unless we all sell a kidney or something," Ember sighed, running a hand through her hair. "What are we gonna tell Rosalyn? She's still looking for you."

"Why were you guys looking for me anyway?" Lenore inquired.

"Rosalyn thought she heard something, and she came to ask me if I heard it too, which I did. So we decided to ask you, and you weren't in your bed."

"Rosalyn was looking for me backstage…where he had asked me to meet him. She almost caught us."

"Caught? Is there something going on that I should be aware of?"

"I didn't mean it like that. Though the situation did look rather suspicious."

"What were you doing with him backstage in the middle of the night that isn't what I think it is, but still looked suspicious?"

"He was threatening me again. He slammed me into a wall, and pinned me there with his body…so, definitely looked suspicious, though it's not what it looked like. We'll tell Rosalyn I was in the kitchen having a glass of milk."

"You're lucky I managed to talk Rosalyn out of searching the kitchen for you. I told her I'd check it, though I know you never eat or drink anything in the middle of the night. So, I found you having a glass of milk. And the noise we heard was you dropping the cup in the dark," Ember decided.

* * *

_How could I be so careless as to let that girl catch me in Lenore's room? _The Phantom cursed silently as he returned to his lair. This complicated things. That girl, Ember, would most certainly get in the way. He knew he could bully Lenore into anything he wished, and if bullying didn't work with the girl, he could always play on her foolish lust for him. Ember, on the other hand, possessed a ridiculous stubbornness that would not let her give in under most circumstances.

_I left my cloak on the girl…it seems I get more careless by the minute. I shall have to retrieve it tomorrow along with my salary.

* * *

_

"She was getting a glass of milk and dropped the cup. Now come on, let's go back to bed," Lenore heard Ember telling Rosalyn outside her door.

"I heard something backstage," Rosalyn insisted.

"It must have been your imagination."

"Can I just talk to her for a minute?"

"No, she's trying to get some sleep, and you should be too. Bed, now!" Ember ordered.

"Fine, I'll just wait till morning," Rosalyn grumbled.

Lenore let out a sigh of relief and prepared to lie down in her bed. _Wait a second; I'm still wearing his cloak. He'll want this back…but I'm not allowed underground, I can't give it back to him until I see him next. Who knows when that'll be? I'll just have to hide it, I suppose._

She woke up the next morning at eleven o'clock. _Damn, I should've been up three hours ago. _Lenore rolled out of her bed and placed her glasses on her face, then turned and made the bed, the Phantom's cloak hidden beneath her blankets. She proceeded to dress and limp down the hall to the kitchen; her ankles were stiffer than usual this morning. She expected her friends would be waiting for her, sitting around the table and talking. _Please don't let them have wandered off into the underground. That would just ruin my day…probably ruin my life too…_

The kitchen was empty, and Lenore began to worry. She grabbed a donut and started searching through the hallways. She finally found them, hard at work cleaning the ballet dormitories and the laundry room right next to the dorms.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Lily chirped, seeing her friend standing in the door, munching on a donut.

"Yes, it is morning," Lenore agreed. "Sorry, I had problems sleeping last night."

"Is that why you were out of bed shortly after two?" Rosalyn inquired, giving Lenore a suspicious stare.

"Yeah, I went to the kitchen to have a glass of milk. Sorry I disturbed you when I dropped that glass," Lenore lied. _I can't believe I'm lying to one of my closest friends._

Rosalyn shook her head worriedly and went back to what she'd been doing. As soon as Lenore finished her breakfast, she joined them, and by mid-afternoon they had finished their work for the day.

"Now what are we gonna do?" Kathleen wondered aloud.

"Well…we could go shopping," Lily said hopefully.

"Not shopping," Brad groaned. "You're going to make me poor, woman."

"Well at least I'll have fine Paris fashions so we don't look poor," Lily giggled.

Hours later, the group returned to the Opera House after a lengthy shopping experience. (Lily had insisted on trying on every piece of clothing that might fit her.) Purses considerably lighter, the girls giggled and discussed their purchases.

"I'm so proud you didn't buy a single baggy shirt," Lily praised Lenore.

"You dragged me away from that rack, remember?" Lenore retorted.

"I would never," Lily said with mock indignation.

"Yeah, you'd never…do it more than once," Lenore muttered before laughing.

"Well, it didn't hurt you to try on that Gucci dress, now did it?"

"That thing was see-through in almost all the wrong places!" Lenore reminded her friend. "And don't tell me that's the style today, cuz if it is, then I'm going to wear baggy clothes until this trend dies."

"Well, what about that Chanel outfit?"

"Too tight, and too expensive," Lenore replied.

"You could've bought it, I know you've got the money," Jamie broke in.

"I don't splurge…at least, I don't splurge that much. Did you see the price of the skirt alone? I could buy ten skirts at Wal-Mart for the same price, and get more for my money. Besides, I'm happy with the perfume I got."

"It's peach, you hate peaches," Ember argued.

"Correction: I hate eating peaches. Smelling like peaches is nice; I like the scent, just not the taste."

Everyone crowded into Lenore's room that night, much to her chagrin. Lily insisted that Lenore turn on her laptop and have music going in the background while they talked. Lenore didn't pay any attention to the conversation, just listened to her music.

"Lenore?" Jamie said, snapping her fingers in front of Lenore's face.

"What? I was paying attention," Lenore lied.

"Well then, what do you think?" Kathleen inquired.

"Alright, I wasn't paying attention. What do I think about what?"

"About what the Phantom might be like if he really existed," Kathleen said.

"Oh. Well, he's definitely mysterious. You'll never get a good look at him, no matter how hard you try. And he'll confound you something awful. He'll make you angry, afraid, and confused, all at the same time. You can never sort out the feelings, either. These feelings overwhelm you, just sorta slam into you like a wrecking ball. You can't breathe, you can't think, you can't do anything but feel. When he threatens you, you're afraid, yes, but also excited. Somehow it's alluring, seductive. Inside, you're drowning in your lust, but on the outside, you're all aquiver with fear. And you realize you want to see him, want to know he's watching you. You want to hear him speak, even if it would cost you your ears. You just can't stand silence once you've heard him speak, once you know that mesmerizing voice is close by and will not give your ears the privilege, and pleasure, of hearing it," Lenore responded truthfully. She didn't even stop to think about how she worded things, didn't worry about insinuating that he was there in the Opera House, didn't worry that he was listening.

"Wow, I really like your idea," Kathleen sighed. "Don't stop."

"I have to. There's so much more to say, and yet at the same time, there's nothing else that can be said," Lenore informed Kathleen.

"You put a lot of thought into that," Rosalyn commented.

"That's why she didn't answer right away," Jamie concluded. "She was busy scripting that up in her head."

"No way," Ember argued. "That was pure improvisation. Everything she said was genuine, on-the-spot theories." They continued to argue over whether or not Lenore thought it up on the spot or actually thought it out extensively before replying, until Lenore started to sing with her music:

One day I looked up and there you were  
Like a simple question looking for an answer  
Now I am a whale listening to some inner call  
Swimming blindly to throw myself upon your shores  
But what if I don't find you when I have landed  
Would you leave me here to die on your shores stranded?  
I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.  
I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.

I say:  
"Dela! Dela! Ngiyadela!  
When I am with you!  
Dela! Sondela lover! Sondela.  
I burn for you!

I've been waiting for you all my life -- waiting for a miracle  
I've been waiting day and night, day and night.

I've been waiting for you all my life -- waiting for redemption  
I've been waiting day and night,

I burn for you

A blind bird sings inside the cage that is my heart  
And the image of your face comes to me when I'm alone in the dark  
If I could give a shape to this ache that I have for you  
If I could find the voice that says the words that capture you  
I think I know, I think I know

I think I know, I think I know  
I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.

I think I know why the dog howls at the moon.

I say:  
"Dela! Dela! Ngiyadela!  
When I am with you!  
Dela! Sondela lover! Sondela.  
I burn for you

I've been waiting for you all my life -- waiting for a miracle  
I've been waiting day and night, day and night.

I've been waiting my life -- waiting for redemption

I've been waiting day and night  
I burn for you!

"What was all that about?" Jamie inquired.

"She's met a boy," Lily guessed. "Some cute Paris boy who wooed her with French phrases and a large bank account."

"Well, definitely a Parisian, though I'm not sure about the wooing part," Ember said softly.

"Do you know something we don't?" Kathleen asked, a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"Let's see if we can't get it out of her!" Kathleen declared, picking up a pillow with Lily right behind her. Jamie was right on their heels, beating anyone she could reach with her pillow. Within moments, the only one not involved in the pillow fight was Lenore, who was desperately trying to keep from being hit. The war followed her to the bed. Squealing and squirming around, the girls and Brad began to make a horrible mess of Lenore's neatly-made bed.

Lenore, laughing along with everyone else, started pushing people off the bed, one by one. Jamie was the last person on the bed, and grabbed onto Lenore as she was evicted from the bed. Lenore came crashing down on top of her, realizing that the way she'd kicked the covers as she fell would reveal the Phantom's cloak hidden in her bed.

The moment Jamie hit the floor, the room was plunged into darkness. "A power outage?" Kathleen wondered aloud. "Who would've thought that Paris would have power outages?"

"Maybe a fuse blew," Rosalyn suggested. "Let's go find the fuse box and check it out."

"Fuse boxes are usually in the basement. Lenore, where's the basement from here?" Brad asked.

"Um, I don't really know. I doubt we blew a fuse; I mean, let's not jump to conclusions. We should call the power company first, see if there really is an outage…" Lenore trailed off lamely. She knew no one would believe a power outage in Paris. She bit her lip nervously, still laying on top of Jamie. "OW! Who just stepped on my hand?" she yelped.

"Wasn't me," came the voices of her friends.

"Certainly wasn't me," Jamie added.

Lenore and Jamie stood up as everyone's eyes began to adjust to the darkness. "We really should go check your fuse box," Brad insisted.

"Yeah, we should," Rosalyn agreed. "If something's wrong with the fuse box, we need to know now and get it fixed before we start performing."

Brad whipped out a keychain from his pocket, and turned on the little flashlight attached to it. "Lenore, you'd better come with me, I don't know my way around well enough. The rest of you should just wait here," Brad said, trying to take charge of the situation.

"I'm coming," Rosalyn piped up. "I need to learn the layout too."

"Then I ought to go too," Ember decided.

"You're only going to be working with the dancers, all you need to know is how to get to the ballet dormitories," Rosalyn argued.

"Well what makes you so special?" Ember inquired.

Lenore and Brad snuck out while Ember and Rosalyn got into a heated debate about who should go along with them and why. "So, uh, fuse box…" Lenore stammered as they crept through the dark halls. Shadows seemed to be amplified by the small amount of light Brad's little flashlight provided.

"Do you have any idea where it might be? Perhaps something a bit more specific than just 'the cellar'," Brad chuckled.

"Umm…no, not really…" Lenore replied, trembling. She hated to leave all her friends alone, at the mercy of the Phantom. Brad was even more at risk, because he was the only one with her, and while Brad was strong, she didn't think he'd be any match for the Opera Ghost. _Maybe he wanted to get me away from my friends to kill them, or maybe he intended to get me alone with someone, so he could kill one person off as an example…or maybe he wanted me to come out to fix the problem by myself so he could talk with me…_

"I think I saw some stairs leading down this way," Brad mused, heading down the hallway that would take him to the stairs leading into the cellar.

"No, it's definitely not this way," Lenore lied. "I'm sure it's back the other way."

"Well, let me just check," Brad insisted.

"No, don't check, it'll waste time, let's go back the other way," Lenore pleaded, following Brad as he got closer and closer to the stairs Lenore was desperately trying to lead him away from.

"There's the stairs; honestly Lenore, you don't know the layout very well, do you?" Brad said lightly. "Aren't you glad we didn't go the other way now?"

"Not really," she muttered so low that he didn't catch it. "Brad, let's just go back to the others, please. I don't think we should go down there. It's really dark, and all we've got is that little light. What if your batteries die? We'd be lost down there, Beaumont said there's a plethora of passageways in the cellar; we'll get lost and starve to death."

"Come on, Lenore, don't be chicken. There's nothing to be afraid of," Brad said soothingly, taking her hand. He gently but firmly began tugging her down the stairs after him.

"No, Brad, we have to turn back. Please Brad, I don't want to die, we have to go back!" Lenore begged. "Let go, Brad! Please, please. Don't…we can't… Please…. please…"

"What's got you so scared?" Brad inquired worriedly, still pulling her behind him down the stairs. "This isn't like you, Lenore. Are you afraid we'll see a ghost or something?"

"Yes, to be quite frank, I am afraid we'll see a ghost, now please let's go back!" Lenore said, close to tears now. By the time they had reached the bottom of the stairs, she truly was crying. Tears streamed down her cheeks and anything she said was in-comprehensible.

"What died down here?" Brad mumbled, referring to the stench.

They ventured on about eighty feet into the dark underground, when Brad's light suddenly came upon the remains of Ellen, hanging from the ceiling. Brad dropped Lenore's hand, staring in sheer shock at the corpse before him. Lenore's vision was beginning to go dark and she could feel herself falling. She heard a grunt of pain and saw Brad hit the floor in front of her just before her vision went entirely black and she fell unconscious.

A minute later, she returned to consciousness, lying on the cold floor on her stomach. Her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were in the process of being bound as well. "_Did I not tell you to keep your friends out of the underground?_" the Phantom hissed in the darkness.

"I tried, I really did, he wouldn't listen to me," Lenore defended herself. "Ah, that hurt!" Lenore cried as he tightened the link rope between Lenore's wrists and ankles.

"_It's supposed to,_" the Phantom replied harshly. "_I can't have you getting loose; the more it hurts you, the less likely you are to escape._"

"Brad…what did you do to Brad?" she asked, realizing that if she was still alive, perhaps the Phantom would also spare her friend.

"_He's not dead, just unconscious…I would kill him, if I even suspected for a moment that his pathetic excuse for a wife would survive being a widow._ _As it seems she would not, he gets to live, regrettably._"

"How can you talk like that? He's my friend!" Lenore said, outraged that he could so casually destroy the lives of her friends without any sign of remorse. She saw him move around in front of her, picking up and turning off Brad's little flashlight. She heard a few more noises and realized he had lifted Brad and was about to go off somewhere with her unconscious friend. "Where are you going?"

"_I'll leave him where he can be found; don't fret your pretty little head over him,"_ the Phantom said.

"You're gonna leave me alone in the dark?"

"_Not alone, Mademoiselle. Ellen's here to keep you company._"

She heard his footsteps retreating, and when she was sure he was out of earshot, she voiced her thoughts. "You're sick! A rotting corpse is not company," she whispered, tears threatening to fall. _What are you going to do to me? If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it by now…wouldn't you? You're obviously not going to let me go…God, I'm in some deep $hit. _She didn't bother to struggle; she wasn't going to be able to wriggle out of her bonds and, because he had hogtied her, she couldn't really inch her way towards the stairs. Rather than hurt herself in a futile attempt at escape, she just lay there, waiting for him to come back.

Lenore had only ever felt so helpless one other time in her life. There had only been one other instance where she couldn't move, couldn't escape what seemed to be impending doom. She had been saved that time, but she seriously doubted there was any one who could come and save her now, with the exception of God. When soft footfalls announced the Phantom's return, Lenore was torn between being terrified at her helplessness or overjoyed that she would soon be released from her pain and fear, be it because he cut her bonds or because he killed her.

The Opera Ghost loosed the link rope, giving the muscles pulled taut a chance to relax before he cut the rope and began undoing the knots securing her ankles. When her extremities were freed of the ropes, she was dragged to her feet.

"_Is your hand alright?_"

"Well, their a little numb from the ropes…" Lenore admitted, wondering why he was wasting time asking such a stupid question.

"_The one I stepped on in your room; how is it?_"

"You're the one who stepped on me?" she grumbled. "I guess it's fine, a bit sore, but I'll live."

"_I didn't want to step on you, but it was either your hand or your friend's face. I assumed you'd prefer not have your friend hurt._"

"What were you doing in my room with my friends there anyway?"

"_Retrieving my cloak before it could be seen._"

"Did you cut the power?"

"_Bright girl, aren't you?_" he replied sarcastically.

A scowl settled itself on Lenore's face as he took her upper arm and dragged her through the dark labyrinthine underground.


	5. Chapter 5

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.) I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

"Your husband's a jerk," Rosalyn griped at Lily. "He shouldn't have gone off with her alone, something's going on in this place and it's not safe!" 

"What's done is done," Ember said. "Why don't we all go to the kitchen and get something to drink?"

The group crept through the hall, huddled together with the exception of Jamie, who said she wasn't a girl and therefore was not afraid of the dark. They were about twenty feet from the kitchen when the power came back on and light poured into the hallway from the kitchen. They all tensed for a brief moment.

"Brad must have found the fuse box and fixed it," Rosalyn said, sounding horridly unsure and fearful. The girls continued forward, creeping softly as though they were attempting to commit larceny. Finally, they came to the doorway and peered into the bright kitchen.

"Brad!" Lily shouted, rushing forward and dropping beside the unconscious form of her husband on the floor.

"Well, guess he didn't find the fuse box," Jamie said wryly.

Ember saw an envelope on the table and picked it up. It was addressed to her, so she ripped it open and hurriedly pulled out the parchment.

Mademoiselle Ember Parker,

Your sister is now my hostage. This is to ensure that you and your companions will not speak of the events that have occurred this evening. Should you contact the authorities, your sister will be returned to you, dead. Keep your silence and your sister will continue to live. I remain, Mademoiselle, your humble servant,

O. G.

"Humble servant my ass!" Ember roared angrily. Rosalyn ripped the letter from her friend's hands. After reading it, she dropped it, staring at the parchment in disbelief.

"It's not possible, it's just not possible," Rosalyn breathed.

Kathleen snatched it up and read it aloud. "What does he mean, 'the events that have occurred this evening'?"

Brad groaned, coming to. "Brad, are you alright?" Lily sobbed, hugging her husband tightly as he sat up, gingerly touching the back of his head.

"What the hell hit me?" he muttered. "Where's Lenore?" was his next comment.

"With the Phantom of the Opera," Kathleen said softly.

"Wait a second, you're telling me the Phantom of the Opera knocked me unconscious and took off with Lenore?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Jamie replied. "You catch on quick, don't you?"

"What happened?" Rosalyn inquired.

"We went down into the basement. Lenore kept begging me not to, but I didn't listen. I thought she was just scared of getting lost in the dark. We reached the bottom of the stairs and went further into the basement. There was a girl…well, the remains of a girl, hanging from a noose. It's one of the worst things I've ever seen…" Brad shuddered, remembering it. "Then something connected with the back of my head and I was out."

"Thank God you're still alive," Lily bawled, clinging to her husband.

"You should never have gone without someone else," Ember said. "I knew he was here, I should've just told you, Rosalyn. But he said if I told anyone, he'd kill Lenore."

"Well, now we're all in that situation, aren't we?" Rosalyn retorted bitterly. "How did you know he was here?"

"I saw him. With Lenore. Last night, they were backstage, and you heard them. He took her and fled, returning to her room. But I was coming back from searching the kitchen and heard her door close, so I went in. He put a knife to her throat and made me promise not to tell anyone I'd seen him," Ember explained.

"What were they doing backstage?" Kathleen inquired, just waiting to hear that her friend had been making time with the Phantom.

"He was threatening her. That's all she told me. But he was probably trying to bully her into getting us out of the Opera House. God! I should've gone with you, Brad."

"What would you have done?" Brad responded. "You wouldn't have made any difference. He might have even killed you if you'd been down there. As far as that goes, we don't even know if Lenore is still alive."

"The letter says she is," Jamie pointed out.

"We can't really trust that," Kathleen interjected. "We don't have any proof that she is indeed alive. It's anyone's guess right now, but it doesn't really matter; he's holding all the cards."

"And none of us are hiding any aces up our sleeves," Ember muttered bitterly. "Damn, I hope he's going to let her take phone calls."

"Why phone calls?" Brad inquired, wondering if Ember was losing her sanity.

"My mom, that's why," Ember replied. "She's not going to take excuses for why Lenore can't come to the phone. Not for long, anyway."

"And I wouldn't put it past Mrs. Parker to come to France to personally yell at Lenore for not talking to her," Jamie added.

"Can you just imagine her reaction if we told her that Lenore had been kidnapped?" Ember said with a shudder.

* * *

"Is it your intention to cut off my circulation, or am I just lucky?" Lenore snapped bitterly after a few minutes. 

"_I don't wish you to get lost, Mademoiselle._"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go wandering off into the darkness, because I know my way around," Lenore replied sarcastically. "Look, there's no way I can escape; even if I did know my way around here, you're faster than me. I know there's no point in trying to run off, so why don't you loosen your grip? I rather miss having blood flowing in the veins and arteries of my arm."

"_Do you swear on pain of death not to run?_"

"As foreboding as that sounds, yes, I swear on pain of death." She felt his grip loosen considerably, his hand now barely touching her arm as he led her on. Her arm tingled as the blood rushed through the veins and arteries it had been prohibited from entering moments ago. "It's going to bruise something awful," she mumbled to herself, though making sure to speak loud enough for him to hear.

"_Quit complaining; you're lucky I need you alive as leverage._"

Lenore stopped abruptly, staring at where she assumed his head was in the dark. "You mean to tell me that if you didn't need me for some reason unbeknownst to me, you'd kill me?" she asked disbelievingly.

"_Naturally._ _Keep walking._"

"You'd kill a defenseless woman?"

"_Are you deaf, woman, or just daft?_"

Lenore bit back a rather profane and smart-aleck comment, deciding it could very well save her life if she held her tongue. "What do you need me for?" she inquired, still refusing to walk until she got all the information out of him that she wanted.

"_Apparently you're ignorant rather than deaf. Your life is their silence; should one end, so does the other._" He gripped her arm tightly and started pulling her along once again.

"OW!" Lenore cried; his grip was lethally tight and she had no doubt he was coming seriously close to breaking the bone in her upper arm with his firm hold. "You're hurting me!"

He suddenly stopped, yanking her close to him. "_The alternative is death, Mademoiselle. Make your choice. If you remain silent, I will take it as evidence that you value your life, pathetic and meaningless as it is. If you continue to fuss like a child, you will see how thin my patience can be._"

Lenore stood there, somewhat stunned. He had just told her he needed her alive, and she would have pointed that out to him if she wasn't worried about testing his patience. She was also insulted by his comment about her life being pitiful and worthless.

"_What a shame,_" he muttered after a few moments silence.

_What a shame! I decide to live instead of making him kill me, and he calls that a shame? He's a homicidal maniac!_ Lenore felt tears stinging her eyes as he continued to haul her through the darkness. These tears were composed of physical pain, fear, and disappointment that the Phantom was not what she had envisioned him to be. She would never have thought him to be such a cruel, deranged man. Her tears refused to be held captive any longer and began sliding down her cheeks. She sniffled, wiping her tears away with her free hand.

"_Are you crying, girl?_"

"No," she lied with another sniffle.

She heard a soft sigh. "_Am I hurting you that much?_"

"No," she repeated, holding back a sob.

"_Will you stop lying to me?_"

"I'm fine," she sniffled, tears positively pouring from her eyes now.

* * *

The Phantom could see easily through this darkness, and saw the tears on her cheeks. He had upset her wonderfully. He had never truly intended to kill her, though that wasn't something she could possibly know. Despite what people believed, he was not a heartless killer. Ellen's death had been brought on because she refused to listen to his multiple warnings; he had threatened her with death on at least twenty different occasions, but she insisted on continuing to venture underground. Lenore had the intelligence to listen to him, and therefore, he would much prefer to let her live. Her life now depended on her friends, which was quite regrettable. 

"_Tears do not suit you, Lenore._"

"I'm not crying!" she insisted, her voice quivering with the sobs she would not release.

"_You have nothing to fear from me._"

"You want to kill me!" she argued.

"_What ever gave you that impression?_"

"You told me to be quiet if I wanted to live, so I didn't say anything, and then you said "What a shame." Obviously, you find it disappointing that I want to stay alive rather than let you kill me!"

"_You're bright enough to know when to hold your tongue. Your friends, however, may not be. Therefore, if your life is to end by my hands, it will be of your friends' volition, and not your own. That is what I was referring to, Mademoiselle._"

"You don't want to kill me?" she challenged, her tears seeming to lessen to some extent.

"_I am not entirely heartless. I would not kill a woman, unless she was extremely foolish and ignored my warnings. You have done your utmost best to heed me; therefore, you have nothing to fear._"

Lenore sniffled a bit, but her tears did not slow more than they already had.

"_What else troubles you?_"

"You're hurting my arm," she whimpered. "And I can't walk anymore."

Loosening his grip, the Phantom looked at her curiously. What reason could she possibly have for her supposed inability to walk further? "_It's not much farther, Mademoiselle; another ten minutes at most._"

"My ankles hurt," she admitted grudgingly, as though she was confessing a dark secret to him.

"_I did not bind them that tightly, surely_"-

"It's not that. I don't want to explain, but just trust me when I say I can't walk any further."

* * *

Lenore waited in the silence for the inquiry that she knew would come. What reason could a young girl like her have for not being able to walk? After all, she should have the stamina and energy that came with youth. She was taken completely by surprise when he swept her off her feet, carrying her in his arms bridal style. 

About ten minutes later, they came to the edge of a lake, and a gondola was sitting in the water's edge. The Phantom set her down inside the boat gently, and she noticed a lantern on the front of the boat. It didn't provide near enough light for her to see anything that wasn't within a three foot radius of the lantern. _How can he possibly navigate with that pitiful amount of light?_

"_I regret that your eyesight is not equal to mine; the sculptures and other artwork set in the walls are a sight to behold._"

"You mean you can see in this blackness?" she asked conversationally.

"_I find light to be offensive; it is harsh and garish._"

"Yeah, I don't particularly like bright light, either," Lenore agreed. "The less light, the better."

* * *

"You bloody fool!" Ember snarled. 

"It's not safe!" Rosalyn cautioned.

"No, Brad, you can't risk it!" Lily sobbed.

"Stop trying to be a hero!" Jamie huffed.

"You could get Lenore killed!" Kathleen added.

Currently, Brad was in the kitchen with the intent of heading for the steps leading to the basement in an attempt to rescue Lenore. He felt responsible, not to mention that he was a United States soldier and therefore felt highly qualified for this mission. All five girls had a handful of his shirt clutched firmly in their fingers. If he was going underground, he'd have to drag all five of them with him. He was trying to pry off their death grips when the phone rang.

"I hope that's a telemarketer," Ember prayed.

"That's a Guinness Book Record; the first time someone actually wanted a telemarketer to call," Kathleen muttered as Ember's free hand snatched up the phone.

"Hello?" Ember said tentatively. She winced when she received a reply. "Hi, Mom, how are you?...Oh, well, we didn't know that the phone lines had been reconnected yet. We were just so busy; we didn't even think to check…Look, we're sorry, we were just busy…Lenore? Oh, she's in the shower right now…Well, she said she was gonna go to bed after that, she's really tired…Yeah, I'll tell her you said to call…It's going great over here. We're making real progress…"

* * *

Lenore was delighted when she saw that the gondola was headed for a cavern that had light spilling out of it. _Finally, I'll get to see him._ She waited as patiently as she could, but the closer they drew to the lighted entryway, the more anxious she became. She felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, about to die from waiting for so long to see what joys were hidden in colorful wrappings. It was all she could do to keep from turning around and staring at him. 

The first thing Lenore noticed in his lair was the large organ. Her eyes took things in randomly after that. A painting here or a sculpture there, whatever drew her eye. When the gondola stopped, she patiently waited while he got out, put the oar aside, and threw his cloak over a statue before turning to face her.

Her lips parted as she let out a sigh of amazement. The white mask hiding the right side of his face did not detract from his appearance. If anything, it made him more attractive, because it hid a mystery. His ice blue eyes bore into her own, and it felt as though he had paralyzed her and switched off her brain. All Lenore could do was stare.

The Phantom held a hand out to her, and her mind produced the image of Disney's Aladdin, when Aladdin asks Jasmine if she trusts him before the magic carpet ride. She wasn't sure she'd be able to respond if the Phantom should ask her the same question. Eyes still locked on his face, she slipped her petite hand into his gloved one. He pulled her out of the boat, and when her feet hit the floor, she subconsciously took a few steps closer to him.

Confusion flickered briefly in his eyes. "Why do you limp?" he asked her. She bit her lip, silently cursing herself. She had done too much walking on her legs earlier, and she had known she would limp rather noticeably the next time she walked; she had been so entranced by the Phantom's good looks, that she had failed to remember this and shown him the last thing she ever wanted to. She decided to ignore that question, as she didn't really want to explain it to him.

* * *

The Phantom waited for an answer, but Lenore seemed to have found the floor suddenly captivating, as it obtained the attention of her eyes and robbed her of her voice. He was tempted to tell her he'd make her walk to the bedroom if she didn't tell him, but he had the feeling she'd take the easy way out and still leave him without an answer. He lifted her off her feet once again and carried her to the bedroom, laying her down on the peacock shaped bed. 

"What to do with you," he sighed, looking at the girl.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she inquired curiously, staring at him once again.

"Well, I can't have you larking about my lair and getting in my way. The corridors are strictly off limits, as you would get yourself lost. And unless you fancy being drowned by the siren, you'd best avoid the lake as well. Which limits you to this room," he replied. "Is there a particular reason you keep staring at me?" Lenore turned an interesting shade of red and dropped her eyes, mumbling so softly he could not catch her words. "Speak up, girl."

"I'd much rather not," she whispered, her blush increasing. She glanced up and saw his stern glare. "I, uh, said, um…well…that a girl couldn't help but stare at such an attractive man," she finished in a rush before pulling the covers over her face in embarrassment.

He let that one go without a response; any response he could give would be unkind. She did not know the ugliness behind the mask; she could never understand that such compliments were torturous for him because he knew it to be false. He stood and walked towards the door. He paused for a moment and looked back to see her eyes peeking out from under the blanket at his retreating form. "You will not leave this room without my permission, Mademoiselle. Get some rest," he told her, heading out to check up on her friends.


	6. Chapter 6

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

**Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.)** I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

Rosalyn didn't know what had possessed her to hide in Lenore's closet, but she wanted to confront the Phantom personally and she knew he wouldn't come out of the woodwork if she was sitting on the bed waiting for him. She had heard noises a few minutes ago, someone sneaking into the bathroom, which she assumed to be Ember, probably with the same intentions as Rosalyn.

Rosalyn just about had a heart attack when the door to the closet slid open and the dark figure stared at her in confusion for a brief moment before wrapping a hand around her throat.

"Don't move," she heard Ember's voice hiss from the darkness behind the figure. "I have a gun, and I know how to use it, Monsieur."

"_Shoot me then, Mademoiselle. Your sister will die of starvation, lost in the underground,_" the Phantom chuckled darkly.

"If my sister's really alive," Ember bit back.

"_Lenore is safe, I assure you. You should concern yourself with Rosalyn's well-being at the moment._"

Rosalyn, for her part, was seeing blackness on the edge of her vision. She couldn't get oxygen into her lungs, and she was seriously beginning to believe she would die right at that very moment.

"What do you mean?" Ember snarled.

Rosalyn was dragged out of the closet by her throat and positioned in front of the Phantom as a shield. "_Foolish girl, really. Hiding in the closet to confront me, unarmed. You, Mademoiselle Parker, at least had enough sense to arm yourself._"

"Let go of Rosalyn," Ember ordered, her gun trained on the Opera Ghost.

"_Or what? You'll shoot me? I suppose it wouldn't surprise me all that much if you sacrificed Lenore's life for your friend._"

"What are you talking about?" Ember said, wondering why he would even insinuate that she cared more for Rosalyn than Lenore. _Besides, if I know Lenore, she'd rather die than let one of her closest friends be murdered._

"_You know very little of your sister…but that is not my concern. You would do well to emulate her example. She obeys me, most often without question. Surely you know what happens to those who find it difficult to follow my instructions._" Rosalyn clawed at his hand desperately, hovering on the edge of consciousness. "_Perhaps you need a reminder._"

"If you let go of Rosalyn, I'll let you go…on one condition," Ember said in a rush, hoping he didn't truly mean to kill Rosalyn to prove his viciousness.

"_You are in no position to be bargaining, Mademoiselle._"

"All I ask is that you bring Lenore up to see us once every week or so," Ember explained. "Just so we know she's still alive."

"_I might see fit to comply,_" he said evasively. "_You should cease negotiations; your friend will die if you keep me much longer._"

Ember lowered her gun and the barely conscious Rosalyn was thrown into her arms. The Phantom turned and removed the blue dress Lenore had met them in, draping it over his arm. "We can't pay your salary, you know," Ember informed him, not sure why she was even bringing it up. She vaguely remembered it was due today, but he had not asked for it, so it seemed ridiculous to remind him.

"_Your sister will pay the debt in companionship until the first performance. After that, I will expect to be paid with francs._"

Ember merely nodded her head and dragged her friend out of Lenore's room.

* * *

Lenore awoke to the sounds of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata. She found Monet in her arms and smiled. It was sweet that he would go to the trouble of retrieving her teddy bear. She also saw the dress he had given her laid out on a chair. She slipped out of the bed and walked to the doorway, poking her head out of the room. She figured it would be acceptable because the majority of her body was still in the room.

He sat at the organ, producing the soft, slow second movement of the piece with such ease. He made it look simple, as if the organ played itself and his fingers merely went along with it. Just as he reached the end of the second movement, Lenore stepped timidly out of the bedroom, staring in wonder at the musical genius that was being displayed before her. The third movement began, and she stood where she was, enraptured at the sound, despite the stormy feeling of the end of the piece. When he finished, he sighed rather audibly.

"Can you not follow simple instructions?" he inquired.

"What?" Lenore said, slowly returning from the trance the music had drawn her into.

"I specifically told you not to leave the room without my permission," he explained, turning to her and shooting her a withering look.

She tried her best to be inconspicuous, to blend in with the background and not be seen, but it was doomed to failure. The Phantom always saw her more clearly than she wanted; it seemed she could only make herself invisible to the people that she wished would see her. Clutching Monet tightly to her chest, Lenore determined that the best course of action would be to apologize.

"I'm sorry, it was just so beautiful, I couldn't help myself," she replied, her eyes lowered in humility. Her parents were suckers for that penitent look, and it was about time she found out what she could and could not get away with around him.

"Do you think me stupid, girl?" he spat. "Those deceptive eyes do not fool me. There is no acceptable excuse for you to be out here, and apologies lacking true remorse for the misdeed do not right the wrong."

Lenore felt horrible. She couldn't even begin to describe it. She felt lower than dirt. She had been foolish to believe he wouldn't see through that penitent look she pulled to get her out of trouble with everyone else. She slunk back into the room like a whipped puppy.

* * *

He considered denying her breakfast as punishment for disobeying him, but the more he thought of about their little argument, the worse he felt. Lenore had merely come out of the room, appreciating his ability. But standing there, looking at him, she had reminded him forcibly of Christine before she had approached him and torn away his mask, exposing the monster underneath.

Then Lenore had tried a child's trick to weasel her way out of trouble, and he feared he had overreacted to that as well. Though she was of an age that she should be mature, he had the distinct impression that something had held her back from letting her reach that state, sufficiently leaving her between being a girl and being a woman. Lack of male companionship might account for it, or perhaps her home life was to blame. He could not say until he knew her better.

When he entered the bedroom, he found her sitting on the bed in her blue dress, eyes examining the room for lack of anything better to do. She kept her silence rather than greet him.

"Are you hungry?" he finally asked to break the silence.

"Yeah," she whispered softly, as though afraid he would scold her again at any moment.

"The correct response is 'yes'," he corrected, offering her his hand as a signal to rise and follow him. She stood hesitantly, slowly taking his hand, acting like she expected him to strike her.

He led her out of the bedroom, and he noticed that she stared at the floor and touched nothing until he brought her to the table. He seated her, as any gentleman would, before providing her a plate of eggs, bacon, and a croissant, as well as a cup of coffee. Sitting across from her, they ate in silence, until she finally broke it.

"What's your name?" she asked. "I mean, you know my name, but I don't know yours. And if I'm going to be staying with you, I should at least know your name."

It couldn't hurt to give her his name, could it? Usually, the only time you think something isn't a problem is when it turns out to come back and nail you. But she made an excellent point; manners dictated that he at least give her his first name, if nothing else. "Erik," he replied, hoping it wouldn't be a mistake he'd regret.

"It's a nice name…not something strange like Lenore," she commented. "Did you know that my name means 'light'? It's like a cruel irony, seeing as how I avoid the sun like the plague."

Erik knew she was trying to make conversation, but he had never bothered to learn what his name meant, and he didn't really care either. Knowing the meaning of your name served little purpose in life, as far as he was concerned. "You do not avoid light, however," he said conversationally. "You find darkness alluring, yes, but you do not understand what darkness truly is. Light is something you still cling to."

* * *

Silence overtook the two again after his last comment. _Why can't he be nice? I'm just trying to make conversation…I guess it's not his fault that he hasn't had to make conversation for years, it stands to reason he'd be a bit rusty at it._

"I am not 'rusty' at conversation, Mademoiselle. You merely have to select the right topics," Erik said, a smirk crossing his face at her surprise.

"How did you….are you telepathic or something?" she demanded.

"I find it to be a useful talent; it makes it much easier to intimidate people when you can get inside their mind and find out what truly scares them," he replied casually. "For example, you fear death more than anything else. Your second biggest fear is loneliness, but it is equal to your fear of rejection, thus successfully trapping you in a vicious cycle. You attempt to make new friends, but every time, you hide your true self from them for fear of rejection, allowing no one to get close and leaving yourself, in fact, alone."

"So…how often do you invade my privacy and peek around in my head?" Lenore snapped angrily.

"Rather infrequently, actually. You reveal your thoughts to me if I ask the right questions."

"Fine, I'll just speak another language," she muttered darkly.

"What purpose would that serve?"

"You wouldn't understand my answers then."

"I'll just reach into your mind and find the translation for what you say, Mademoiselle."

"You're just a…a…rapscallion!" she said, infuriated. He raised an eyebrow, mostly due to her choice of insult. "Yes! A rapscallion! An unscrupulous, dishonest person."

"I would like to debate the accusation of being dishonest. Have I ever lied to you?" Erik asked, truly amused with this girl.

"Alright, fine, you're not dishonest, but you're most certainly unscrupulous, you can't argue that!"

"Just because my morals are different from yours does not mean that I lack them, ma petite," he chuckled.

"You find this funny, don't you?" she snarled.

"Je suis désolé, Mademoiselle," Erik said, "but you are rather entertaining when irritated."

"What in the world did you say?"

"Je suis désolé, which is an apology."

Lenore was close to just stomping away like a child, going back to the room to sulk, but she didn't want to let him get the better of her. As she thought about it, she began to wonder why exactly he needed her to buy her friends' silence. Surely he could have let her go and just threatened the lot of them with death if they ever spoke of it to anyone. They might not even know anything; if he had taken Brad off to kill him, then Ember and the others would think that Lenore and Brad were lost in the underground. "Am I just here for your amusement?" she inquired, her eyes promising death if his answer proved to be false.

"I have already told you, you are here to buy your friends' silence," Erik told her with a careless shrug. "Also, I graciously have allowed your companionship to serve as compensation for my salary until an opera is performed and you can actually afford to pay with money."

_What? He's letting my company take the place of money? It must get very lonely down here…_

"You have no idea, girl."

"Don't do that!" she commanded, turning red. She didn't even want to think about all the things she didn't want him to know that he could see if he was poking around in her head.

"What is it you hide?" he asked her knowingly. "There is something in your mind that you will not let me see."

"What I hide is none of your business, Monsieur. Do not expect me to tell you; you hide behind your mask, let me hide behind mine." Lenore found herself tired and developing a headache, which didn't quite make sense to her at first. But thinking back on it, she had a rather stressful time within the last twenty four hours. Having Brad drag her into the underground where she feared for her life, seeing what remained of Ellen, getting yelled at for leaving Erik's room, and now bickering with him. "I'm not feeling well; I'd like to go back to bed."

"You haven't finished breakfast yet," Erik said, noting that she'd only eaten about half of the food on her plate.

"Fine, I'll go by myself," she snapped, springing up and turning on her heel, heading for the door. She was surprised that he didn't jump up and prevent her from leaving, but she continued on back to the bedroom. Lenore was not about to wait for him to be ready to take her back; after all, she wasn't a little kid who needed someone to hold her hand and watch her every second. She reached the room and flopped down on the bed like an angry spoiled child, and fell asleep moments later.

* * *

Erik stood in the doorway, staring at her as she slept. His mind was probing hers, trying to get into that little portion she had blocked him from. _What can you possibly have to hide from me? Why can I not see anything regarding your family life, or the past few years for that matter? _She could only be blocking them if it was something she did not want to remember or could not remember. It seemed rather unlikely that she had hit her head and gotten amnesia, so it was more probable that what she hid was a combination of suppressed memories and things she did not wish to recall.

Despite the fact that she was asleep, the barrier around that part of her mind was still too strong for him to break through. Most people lost control over the barriers when they slept, but it seemed she was determined to hide things from him. _Perhaps your dreams will provide me insight…_

Erik hated slipping into people's dreams. It was rather uncomfortable, because he had to link his mind with his target's subconscious, forcing the same feelings they had in the dreams upon him. He abhorred losing control of part of himself in that manner. Regardless, he slowly slid into her dreams.

As her dream began to take form around him, Erik first noticed the smell of smoke. It stung his nose and burned his lungs, as he knew it was doing to Lenore at this same moment. The smoke was quickly followed by a scorching heat, and flames flickered in the darkness of her nightmare. Fear began to consume him; the fire was inescapable and death was imminent. _Why do you not run? If it frightens you so much, Lenore, get away from it._

The dark nightmare shattered around him, bringing him back to reality. Lenore was sitting up in bed, sweating and gasping for air. Her eyes darted around wildly, examining the room several times over as if to assure herself that the fire was only a dream and nothing more.

* * *

Lenore realized now it had been a dream, but when she had been asleep…She was there again, the last place she ever wanted to be, trapped and helpless to save herself. But this time the dream had been somewhat different. She had felt someone with her, sharing in her fear. Her eyes finally came to rest on Erik standing in the doorway, who was slightly out of breath and staring at her curiously.

"Don't ever do that again," she hissed furiously, knowing he had somehow invaded her dream. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she wiped them away, hating herself for letting that nightmare get to her. As much as she wished she could blame her tears on Erik's invasion of her privacy, she knew that wasn't it; perhaps it was a small part of it, nothing more.

"When did that happen?" Erik inquired, making sure to keep himself from sounding as curious as she knew he was.

"When it happened," she responded vaguely.

"It is unwise to keep something so traumatic bottled up inside. You should talk about it with someone. Tell me about it," he commanded, coming into the room and sitting on the bed next to her.

"I don't talk about it to anyone, not even my family. There's no way I'm telling someone I barely know," she replied, wishing he would just drop the subject.

"Tell me," Erik repeated, though this time his voice was soothing, trying to coax her into disclosing her secrets.

"It happened, I lived through it, and it's in the past. End of story," Lenore said firmly, silently praying he would leave it at that.

"If it is in the past, why does it still haunt you?"

"It's none of your business!" Lenore shouted angrily. "I don't ask you about your past, I'd thank you not to pry into mine!"

"My past is much longer than yours and would take a good deal of time to discuss. You've had twenty short years of history that you hide from me, and I intend to know it. What is it that has made you this bitter creature incapable of trust?"

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours," she said, gesturing to his mask. She knew he would never show her under his mask, and that gave her the security of never having to show him her own secrets.

Anger flashed in Erik's eyes, and without another word to her, he stood and strode out of the room in a huff. _Great, I made him angry…again. God, why do I have to feel so bad for making him angry?

* * *

_

As if she had anything as grotesque to hide! The nerve of that girl! All women were vicious creatures, searching out the monsters of the world in the effort to kill them with heartless words and cruel actions. Erik was tempted to sit down at his organ and pound away his anger and frustration, but he would not subject Lenore's ears to such torture. He was standing a few feet from the bedroom door when he heard her footsteps.

"I did not give you permission to leave the bedroom," he hissed, turning to face her. She flinched, standing with her eyes glued to the floor. But Lenore seemed determined to say something and would not retreat. Her deep alto voice surprised him when she began to sing:

I don't know if I've ever been good enough  
I'm a little bit rusty, and I think my head is caving in.  
And I don't know if I've ever been really loved  
By a hand that's touched me, and I feel like something's gonna give  
And I'm a little bit angry, well

This ain't over, no not here, not while I still need you around  
You don't owe me, we might change  
Yeah we just might feel good.

I wanna push you around, well I will, well I will  
I wanna push you down, well I will, well I will  
I wanna take you for granted. I wanna take you for granted, yeah, well I will

I will

I don't know why they ever would lie to me  
Like I'm a little untrusted when they think that the truth is gonna hurt me  
And I don't know why they couldn't just stay with me  
They couldn't stand to be near me  
When my face don't seem to want to shine  
'cuz It's a little bit dirty well

Don't just stand there, or say nice things to me.  
I've been cheated, I've been wronged,  
And you, you don't know me, yeah, well I can't change  
I won't do anything at all

I wanna push you around, well I will, well I will  
I wanna push you down, well I will, well I will  
I wanna take you for granted, I wanna take you for granted, yeah I will, I will

Oh but don't bowl me over  
Just wait a minute. Well it kinda fell apart, things get so crazy, crazy  
Don't rush this baby, don't rush this Baby, baby

I wanna push you around, well I will, well I will  
I wanna push you down, well I will, well I will  
I wanna take you for granted, yeah, yeah, yeah  
I wanna take you, take you, yeah, well I will, I will, I will, I will  
I will, I will, I will, Yeah, yeah, push you around,  
I'll drag you down, I wanna push you around  
Well I will

"It's their fault," she whispered softly. "I can't trust because of them. 'Them' being family and friends. I started closing off when I was eleven; by fourteen, I didn't trust anyone or let anyone in. It's been good so far; I haven't been hurt. Anyway, now you know who is to blame for my lack of trust. That's all I intend to tell you, so be satisfied." She turned around and returned to the bedroom, leaving him puzzled as to why she would come out and explain anything to him when she had been so adamant about not disclosing information to him mere moments before.


	7. Chapter 7

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

**Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.)** I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

"No, Mom, we're busy cleaning…Lenore's up in one of the boxes, it would take her ten minutes to get here…Seriously, she'll be ticked if she has to come down in the middle of cleaning…She'll take it out on me!...No Mom, I'm not snapping at you. Listen, we're really busy right now. Lenore will call when she gets the time," Ember said, severely wishing to bang her head against the table and knock herself unconscious so she didn't have to put up with her mother's inquiries to Lenore's whereabouts. "I have to go now, talk to you later. Bye." She quickly set the receiver back in the cradle, wincing slightly. She had just hung up on her mother, and the next call would not be a pleasant one.

"Um, hate to bother you," Rosalyn muttered, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "We need some more supplies, and if I remember correctly, neither of us has any money on us after paying for Chinese last night."

"We'll get it from Lenore's account."

"Are you listed on her account? I know I'm not. And if you aren't, then we have a colossal problem," Rosalyn sighed.

"You know, come to think of it, I'm not on her account. So we basically have no money whatsoever…"

"That would be a bad thing," Kathleen said, coming into the kitchen. "Cuz I know the rest of us have very little left after shopping two days ago. It would help, but the total wouldn't cover the entire cost of supplies." She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. "Maybe we should ask if we can see Lenore, so she can get money out of the account for you guys."

"Sure, great idea," Ember retorted. "Who wants to enter the dark, scary basement of certain death first?"

"OW!" they heard a familiar voice shout. They turned and saw Lenore standing in a corner of the kitchen, glaring behind her at the wall. "Could you not shove me next time? I almost tripped over that last step!"

"Lenore?" Ember breathed, staring at her sister in shock that she was being allowed to see her.

"Yeah, it's me. By the way, no one enters the dark, scary basement of certain death besides me," she added, remembering Ember's earlier comment.

Rosalyn grabbed up the phone and began dialing the police.

Before anyone could say anything, part of the kitchen wall disappeared behind Lenore and a noose slid around her neck. It was pulled dangerously tight and Lenore's fingers clawed at it, trying to loosen it.

"_Put it down, Mademoiselle, or Lenore dies._"

Rosalyn stared over at Lenore, gasping for oxygen and desperately trying to get free as the phone rang on the other end of the line. When it was answered, Rosalyn didn't say a word, just listened to the French words telling her that she'd reached the police. Biting her lip and hating herself for giving in, she hung up the phone.

"_Choose one of them,_" the Phantom hissed into Lenore's ear as he removed the noose.

"What for?" she asked suspiciously.

"_That does not concern you, ma petite. I merely asked you to select one._"

"Fine…Kathleen," Lenore decided, wondering what in the world he could possibly want one of them for.

"_Mademoiselle Devlin, if you would be so kind as to come over here,_" the Phantom called.

Kathleen took a sip of her water before returning it to the fridge and leisurely strolling over to the corner where Lenore stood. As soon as she reached it, his arm shot out of the dark and yanked her into the underground, slamming the section of wall that served as a door shut behind her.

"Hey, you can't just kidnap one of my friends!" Lenore shouted angrily at the wall.

"_This is to ensure that you return, Lenore. If you are not back by sunset, your friend's life is forfeit._"

"You failed to mention that when you asked me to pick," Lenore grumbled, kicking the wall in her frustration before turning to Ember and Rosalyn.

"How are you?" Rosalyn asked, looking at her friend for any signs of poor treatment.

"Besides a jammed toe from almost tripping into the room, I'm fine," Lenore replied, shooting a glare at the wall where Kathleen had disappeared.

"You're getting enough to eat, right?"

"Yup, three meals a day and they tend to be well-balanced too. I never get anything that might be too sugary or fattening though. I miss chocolate…" she said wistfully. "Don't suppose we have any around here...?"

"No, definitely not. Lily, Kathleen, and I attacked it last night," Ember admitted sheepishly. "It was a small amount to begin with…"

"Well, let's go buy some then," Lenore suggested enthusiastically, eager for a taste of the sinful delight called chocolate.

"Can we do that?" Rosalyn asked worriedly, gesturing to the wall.

"Well, Erik didn't say I couldn't go out, he just said to be back by sunset, right?" Lenore reasoned. "Shouldn't be a problem."

"Erik?" Ember repeated.

"You're on a first name basis with him?" Rosalyn added.

"Uh, yeah. I've been living with him for almost two days now. Did you expect me not to learn his name and just keep calling him 'Opera Ghost' or 'Phantom'?"

"She's got a good point there," Ember mumbled. "It's just not Lenore's style to call someone by a 'glorified title bestowed upon them by society'."

* * *

Lenore walked out of the bank doors with Rosalyn and Ember behind her, both now added to her account and capable of making withdrawals and deposits.

"Do you think we're gonna make enough after our first opera to be able to pay him?" she asked her companions.

"Do you want the optimistic answer, or the realistic one?" Rosalyn inquired bitterly.

"She just wants to know if she can spend more time with her precious Erik," Ember teased.

"Please. Our 'relationship' consists mostly of bickering, or me yelling at him because he won't stay out of my head. Give me the realistic answer, Rosalyn," Lenore replied.

"Well, realistically, we won't be able to pay him. Not if we want to keep paying the cast. By the way, I started surfing the net for possible employees. Of course, Ember's gonna have to okay the dance instructor, but other than that, I think I may have found a good portion of our orchestra," she responded.

The three of them continued along, stopping long enough to buy the cleaning supplies they needed. Lenore had them set to be delivered to the Opera House, claiming that she wanted to walk back (despite the long distance).

"I have a feeling I'm not going to be getting out much for a while," she explained, tucking her hands into the pockets of her tight jeans. They window shopped as they ambled back in the direction of the Opera House, stopping for lunch at a small café. As they were leaving the café, three young men approached them.

"Beg your pardon, Mademoiselle," a man addressed Lenore, his black hair pulled back into a short pony-tail and his blue eyes sparkling. "My friends and I noticed you three lovely ladies seem to be alone, and we thought perhaps we could give you a ride to wherever you're headed." He had a French accent that was very obvious.

"I don't know, we're just kind of wandering around," Lenore said evasively.

"Ah, Americans," the second said, his brown eyes focused on Rosalyn. His short brown hair was spiked, and he also had a French accent.

"We could show you the sights," the third ascertained with an Irish accent. He whisked a hand through his red hair, throwing his bangs out of his emerald green eyes that were focused on Ember. "Unless you've already seen them."

"We haven't really had the time to see anything yet," Ember confessed. "I'd love to see the sights; we should do it, Lenore."

"Well…" Lenore said warily.

"C'mon, you're not going to be able to get out for a while soon," Ember coaxed, making the three men look at each other curiously. "You're gonna be so bogged down with work," Ember added. "You know, meeting with that guy about the insurance and all that jazz."

"Alright, fine," Lenore conceded, deciding not to argue with her sister. She then began introductions. "I'm Lenore Parker, and this is my sister Ember, and our friend Rosalyn Kendall."

"I'm Felix Deville," the man with black hair introduced himself.

"Sebastian Rousseau," the man with spiky hair presented himself.

"And I be Patrick O'Malley," the Irish youth said, his accent more pronounced when he gave his name. "I'd be pleased if you'd ride with me, Ember." He gestured to the motorcycles the three owned.

The afternoon was consumed by riding to various tourist attractions on the motorcycles, Ember riding with Patrick, Rosalyn with Sebastian, and Lenore with Felix. "We saved zee best for last," Sebastian said as they neared the end of the day. "The sunset from atop zee Eiffel Tower is exquisite."

"Sunset?" Lenore panicked. "Damn, I've gotta get back to the Opera House. Felix, could you take me to the Opera Populaire?"

"Surely you'd rather see zee Eiffel Tower?" Felix questioned.

"Maybe some other time, but the, uh, guy I was meeting for insurance…I'm supposed to have dinner with him, and if I don't get back to the Opera House now, I won't be able to get ready in time. I can't be late for this meeting," Lenore explained. "I mean, Rosalyn and Ember can go, but I've gotta get back, pronto."

Felix complied, turning off onto a side road and getting her back to the Opera House in relatively good time. _The sun hasn't set yet, Kathleen's still alright…I can't believe I almost forgot about her._

"Let me walk you to zee door, ma chérie," Felix said, getting off the bike and escorting her up the stairs. "You know, I 'ave always been curious about zis building. Might I come in and see it?"

"Uh…I don't think that's a good idea. I co-own with someone else, and he's really, um, I guess temperamental is the word I'm looking for. And very conservative, if he knew I rode a motorcycle, it would be the end of the world."

"I won't stay long, Mademoiselle," Felix assured her before opening the door for her. She walked through and turned to shut the door in his face, but he was already in the Opera House with her.

"Hey, Lenore, I didn't think you were ever gonna get back," Lily said, walking through the hall with a scrub brush and bucket of soapy water. "Oh, who's this handsome gentleman?"

"Felix Deville," he introduced himself, looking around at the entrance hall.

"Well, I'm Lily Campbell, nice to meet you. I've gotta be going, or else Brad will come yell at me for dawdling. He's taken up the position of Sergeant in your absence, Lenore. And we thought you were a slave driver…" Lily muttered the last line before continuing on her way.

* * *

"Excuse me," Kathleen whispered in the darkness. "But if you grip my arm any tighter, you're going to break it."

Erik ignored her words and glared at the man standing with Lenore in the entrance hall. Arrogance surrounded that boy, and Erik was itching to hang the idiot.

"I really, really, really think you should leave now," Lenore said. "I can't just let you wander around, and I have to go get ready, so you should just go."

"I couldn't leave a lady to walk alone in zis place," Felix replied. "I wonder, Mademoiselle, if you 'ave ever 'eard zee story of zee Phantom of zee Opera?"

"Yes, I have. But I'm not afraid, I'm sure I'll be just fine, so you can go now," she insisted.

"I'm not so sure you'd be alright. You are very beautiful, and if zee Ghost is still lurking around, you may find yourself 'is prey," Felix responded, slipping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. Lenore's body tensed; anger flashed in her eyes.

"You need to leave. Now," Lenore said dangerously soft. "If you don't, I might be late for my meeting."

"I'll give you a ride."

"No," Lenore immediately responded. "I, uh, well, you see, I don't think I can ride a motorcycle in the dress I'm planning on wearing. So you might as well go."

"At least let me walk you to your room to keep you safe."

"If my co-owner finds out you're here, we're both of us dead. I'm not allowed to have guests over until it's officially open. The people I have here right now are the only exceptions because they're helping to clean the place up so we can open. So you really need to leave now, before I get in trouble."

"I could 'elp with the cleaning," Felix offered.

"No, we're practically done, we don't really need any more help," Lenore replied, slowly slipping out from under his arm.

Erik knew Lenore was not going to get rid of this suitor so easily. He looked at the girl in his grip in the darkness. "Listen closely, Mademoiselle," he hissed to Kathleen.

* * *

"Lenore, you're back!" Kathleen said, coming into the entrance hall.

"Kathleen?" Lenore said in shock.

"Uh, you know that meeting you had? Well, the guy's here, waiting for you in your office. I tried to call Ember to let you know, but her cell must be off."

"Okay, I'll head right up. Would you please see Mr. Deville to the door?"

"No problem. This way," Kathleen said, walking over and grabbing his arm to tow him toward the door.

Lenore rushed off into the halls. She wasn't sure if she should head underground, or perhaps see if Erik truly was waiting in the offices. Not that she could really remember where the offices were. He might be in her room, but she couldn't be sure. Or maybe he was in the kitchen, where he had let her out this morning. She was running through the corridors as fast as she could, when she was suddenly grabbed, yanked into a room, and thrown against a wall.

* * *

Her blue eyes stared up at him as she stood there gasping for air, partially from running and partially from fear at being grabbed and thrown into a wall. Erik was furious with her, even though he really had no right to be. She had every right to talk with any man she chose; Lenore couldn't possibly know that Erik had become attracted to her. The fact that he had fallen in love with her infuriated him as well, as he had sworn never to get attached again after Christine.

"I'm back," she stated meekly, hating the silence. "Thanks for not killing Kathleen."

"Where were you?" he inquired.

"Well, I went to the bank to put Ember and Rosalyn on my account so they'll be able to get out money and stuff. Then we got some more cleaning supplies, and we were walking back, and stopped for lunch at a café. Then Felix and his two friends came up to us and asked if we'd like to see the sights with them. And so we spent the afternoon gallivanting around Paris," she replied, recounting the events of the day.

"You call him by his first name…that's rather informal of you for having spent only an afternoon in his company," Erik commented, controlling his rage superbly.

"Am I supposed to call him by his last name or something?"

"A proper lady would."

"Well, I guess I'm just not a proper lady then. I mean, I called him by his first name and rode a motorcycle with him; I'm sure ladies don't ride motorcycles," Lenore quipped. "Oh, shi"- She stopped herself before finishing her profane word of choice. "Shoot," she corrected. "I forgot to call my mom; she's gonna be pis- ticked off."

* * *

Lenore hated having to edit her language around him. After all, it was like wearing a mask and hiding part of herself because it wasn't liked or accepted. But if she was going to lose her tongue for profanity, she preferred censoring herself. "So, would it be okay if I had just fifteen more minutes?" she asked.

"I'll be waiting in your room," he told her, disappearing through a hidden door seconds later.

"How does he even see those doors?" Lenore mumbled to herself, turning and exiting the room, headed for the kitchen. She grimaced as she picked up the receiver and dialed her home phone number, and winced as though struck with each ring of the telephone. _Maybe they're out and I can just leave a message on the machine. Then she can't complain that I didn't call._

"Hello?" her mother's voice said on the other end of the line.

"Hi Mom," Lenore said, waiting for the lecture.

"Lenore! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! I've been trying to get in touch with you for the past two days. Can't you pick up a phone? Every time I called you were too busy to talk, and then I guess you just forgot to call back every night!" her mother scolded.

"I've been busy, I run an Opera House now," Lenore defended herself. "As far as that goes, I can't talk long; I have to meet with a man about insurance."

"You're taking Ember with you, right?"

"Well, no," Lenore said, wondering what her mother was getting at.

"Rosalyn? Or perhaps Jamie? You know, you can't go meet a man alone, you never know what could happen," Mrs. Parker warned.

"Mom, I can meet a guy to talk about insurance. I seriously doubt he's some kind of pervert or rapist," Lenore sighed.

"You can never be sure," Mrs. Parker insisted. "You really should take someone with you. You never know what a man might try if he's alone with a girl. Especially in your case. He'll see your limp and know you're an easy target."

"I can take care of myself if a problem should arise. We're in Paris, do you really think no one's going to hear me if I scream for help?"

"Well, what if he knocks you unconscious or drugs you? What if he has a gun? That changes everything; don't try anything if he has a gun. Or a knife. I'm just worried about you, you really ought to take someone with you," Mrs. Parker repeated.

"Look, I have to go now, or else I'll be late."

"Take someone with you."

"Good-bye, Mom."

"Love you honey."

"Love you too, bye."

"Bye."

Lenore hung up the phone with a sigh. _I swear, she treats me like I'm five years old going to my first slumber party and telling me to take a teddy bear to protect me from the monsters in my friend's closet._ She stood and headed for her room, still thinking about how paranoid her mother was concerning her youngest daughter. _She wouldn't tell Ember to take someone with her. But Ember's taken defense classes and can take care of herself. As if I could never manage to punch a guy or knee him where it counts if my life depended on it. Hell, if worst came to worst, I could always thrust the heel of my palm into his nose, either killing him if I put too much power behind it or merely breaking his nose if I put the right amount of power behind it. Either way, I'd be able to escape._

Erik was nowhere to be seen when she entered her room. She inspected her room, as though expecting to find him under the bed or desk. She hummed softly to herself while walking around the room, looking at all her things and wondering why she had to go back underground. When she reached the mirror, it slid to the side, scaring her half to death. A gloved hand appeared, and she took it instantly, letting herself be pulled back into the darkness of Erik's realm.

* * *

Erik was pleased to find that she didn't hesitate. By letting her aboveground today, he had given her ample opportunity to get in touch with the police or leave Paris. The fact that she returned, devoid of police escort, was proof that she was smart enough to do what was best for the Opera House.

"Do I still have to stay in the bedroom?" she asked curiously as he led her through the dark.

"Afraid so, ma petite," he said.

"Why?"

"Because it's the safest place for you."

"Well, can't I come out of the bedroom into the rest of the lair? Unless there's a sculpture there that's gonna eat me, I don't see why it wouldn't be safe."

"You would get in my way, and I am somewhat short on patience," Erik informed her. A mouse skittered away from them in the darkness; Lenore gave a fearful squeak and wrapped her arms around him.

"What was that?" she whispered.

_If I respond, she'll pull away… Do not be a fool, Erik. She feels nothing other than lust for you. She does not love; she doesn't know how. _A voice in the back of his mind argued that perhaps he didn't really know much of love either. "A mouse," he answered her.

"I think you're lying; it didn't sound like a mouse to me," she replied, still holding onto him, burying her face in his shirt.

"What else could it be?" he reasoned, a smile crossing his lips at her sudden display of helplessness and vulnerability. It gave him the feeling that she needed him; even if it wasn't true, it was a nice feeling. "Perhaps Ellen's getting jealous of the attention you receive from me."

"No, it didn't sound like a dead girl," she said, pulling back to look at him, despite the fact that her eyes could not penetrate the darkness to see him. "What if there's some wild animal in here, or maybe the siren's coming after us. You said yourself this place is dangerous, it could be anything."

"I assure you, ma chouchoute, the most dangerous thing under this Opera House is currently held captive in your embrace," Erik told her smoothly.

Lenore's cheeks turned pink and she quickly let go of him, mumbling apologies. He put a finger to her lips to silence her, as there was nothing to feel bad about; he had taken pleasure in the scenario. "You, uh, said a French word. What does it mean?" she inquired after a moment.

Erik found himself smiling wickedly as he decided to let her ponder that one out for a while. He would drop her subtle hints, but it was up to her to figure out that it was a romantic term. "We should continue; you must be tired after your outing," he said evasively.

"You're not gonna tell me what that sh-whatever means?" Lenore said, raising an eyebrow. "Goodness, I hope it's not something along the lines of 'scarlet woman' in French. Or perhaps it is the term for a word that would never pass a gentleman's lips."

"I'm insinuating nothing of the sort."

"You could be lying, how can I trust you?"

"You don't trust me to begin with, Mademoiselle. So why would you even worry that I might be lying to you? If you truly do not trust anyone, then you have already decided I am lying; therefore, whatever answer I give you will be dismissed as fabrication. I see very little point in telling you the truth, as it proves to be a waste of time," Erik said. "Of course, that's all assuming you are as withdrawn from humanity as you say. However, I believe you trust me, to some degree."

"Fine, have it your way," she muttered, turning on her heel to continue on. Naturally, that was quite impossible, as she didn't know the way and couldn't see. He chuckled at her obvious frustration. "Do you have to laugh at me?"

"Is it my fault that you're amusing?" he replied with a smile.

"It's your fault that you find me amusing," she muttered darkly. "And you could always keep your amusement to yourself, you know." This caused him to chuckle once again, only serving to infuriate her further. "Can we get a move on?" she snarled, crossing her arms and scowling like a child.

Still smiling from the pleasure he received from viewing her temper tantrums, Erik took hold of her upper arm and pulled her along through the darkness. She was truly a delight for him; she still had a childish element to her that required someone to take care of her and, sometimes, decide what was best for her, enforcing it if necessary. But she had a woman's desire to take care of herself and make her own way. Christine had never really had that independent streak; she always needed someone to take care of her, be it Erik or that damned Vicomte. Christine was obedient, providing no challenge to get her under his thumb. Lenore, on the other hand, would not succumb to him so easily; she was already putting up a fight.


	8. Chapter 8

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

**Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.)** I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

The lair looked a bit different then when they had left the morning, more disordered. Lenore looked at him curiously. 

"Mademoiselle Devlin tried to escape repeatedly," Erik explained.

"Oh? So she sent papers and artwork scattering?"

"No," he said, trying to drop the subject.

"Well then what happened?" Lenore waited a moment in the silence before taking a stab at what had transpired. "She kicked you, didn't she?"

"As a matter of fact…"

"And then you tore the place up in anger rather than killing my friend…that's sweet of you," Lenore said, trying not to laugh at the thought of Kathleen kicking the Phantom of the Opera.

"Yes, I tore things up, after I cuffed her and chained her to the bed."

"You hit her? She's a defenseless girl, how could you? And then you chained her to the bed? Do you have any idea how disturbingly kinky that sounds? If I didn't know you, I'd think you took advantage of her while she was shackled." There was a short pause, followed by a sigh. "That's just…how could you? You're such a brute!"

"Most people would use the word 'monster'," he hissed, spitting out the word 'monster' with obvious disgust.

"That word is meant for animals and beasts, not men," Lenore said with a shrug.

"Ah, but a man can be called a beast, can he not?"

"You put too much thought into things. If I think you're a monster, I'll tell you. In case you haven't noticed, I'm the type that says what's on my mind, no matter how hurtful others may find it," she told him. "So since I didn't call you a monster, I obviously don't think you're a monster. End of topic. Let's have dinner, I'm starved."

Erik shoved her into the bedroom and left to start dinner. Lenore momentarily thought about telling him there was no way she was going to put on a dress for dinner every night. However, the last time she had tried to inform him that dressing up for dinner was old-fashioned, he had politely replied that he was older than her, and therefore her elder. And as such, his wishes should be respected.

_I like wearing dresses, just not this much. If I don't wear one during the day, I have to change into one for dinner…how wrong is that? It's entirely old-fashioned, and it's somehow linked to oppression of women, I have no doubt. _She pulled her shirt over her head and looked around the bedroom. A crimson dress was draped over a chair and she deposited her shirt on the floor next to the chair, trading it for the dress. _This one fits just like the blue one. How is it that he has clothes that fit me so perfectly? Whoever he took these dresses from must have been my size exactly._

She had to wait about a half hour before Erik came back and led her out to eat. "Do you like the dress?" he asked as he seated her.

"Yeah, it's pretty. It fits so well too, it's amazing," she commented.

"I can have another one for you in two days. What color would you like?" he inquired.

"Oh, well, what colors do you have?"

"Any color you wish. I have yet to buy the material," Erik informed her casually, setting a plate with meat and vegetables in front of her.

"Wait a minute…do you make these dresses?"

"Of course, ma petit," he replied, sitting down across from her.

"Then how do they fit me so well? Did you spy on me when I was changing or in the shower?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest as though it would somehow protect her dignity.

"I got your measurements while you slept on your second night in the Opera House. That's why I put you into a deep sleep; otherwise you would've awoken and stopped me," Erik said as though this were the most obvious and natural thing in the world.

"No shit, Sherlock!" she shouted, forgetting to watch her language as she threw her spoon at him. "You lecher! Did you rape me while you were at it?"

Erik dodged her spoon easily (her aim had been a few inches off to begin with), quickly rising and striding over to her. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up, then dragged her into the powder room.

"What are you doing?" Lenore shrieked, wondering if he was planning some sort of indecent scenario. When he grabbed a bar of soap and got it lathered up, Lenore realized what he intended. "No, no, I didn't mean it, let me go! I won't say it again! Let me go!" She squirmed in his grip, trying to slip out of his hold. She tried to kick him in the shins, but she couldn't balance on one leg long enough to swing her other foot at him. She tried prying his fingers off her arm, but failed miserably. "No! Let go!"

Erik used her squealing to his advantage, stuffing the bar of soap in her mouth while she had it open in protest. Then he yanked it out, and waited for another scream. He continued to shove the soap in and wrench it back out, effectively coating her entire mouth with soap. When he was satisfied that the punishment fit the crime, he put the soap down on the edge of the sink.

Lenore was crying like a child who had just received a spanking. The taste of soap filled her mouth, and she was humiliated that, as a grown woman, someone could hold onto her long enough to wash her mouth out with soap, and that someone had even deemed it appropriate to punish her in such a manner. And it had been lye soap nonetheless. She kept taking in mouthfuls of water and spitting it back out in the sink, knowing that too much lye in your system could kill you. If she could get the taste out of her mouth, she'd be fine.

Erik stood beside her, waiting for her to finish rinsing out her mouth. His eyes conveyed no emotion over the incident whatsoever, and Lenore wished she could follow in Kathleen's footsteps and kick him. But she knew she'd fall over if she tried, which would just bruise her pride more than it already had been. When she had finally rid her mouth of the taste of lye, he spoke. "Do not give me cause to repeat this episode," he said sharply. "I did warn you about your language before; be glad I only washed out your foul mouth. I could have followed through on my earlier threat and cut out your tongue."

Lenore nodded her head and wiped her tears away, sniffling to keep her nose from dripping snot on her new dress, which was now partially drenched due to her extensive wriggling during the mouth washing. They returned to the table and finished dinner in silence. Just as he was leading her back to the bedroom, she heard a bell ring.

"What's that?" she asked.

"It lets me know when people enter or exit the Opera House," he said dismissively. "It would seem your sister and her friend have returned." Erik took her hand and headed for the gondola.

"I get to go back up again?" Lenore inquired, wondering if he was mentally stable today. Letting her aboveground twice in one day was definitely out of character.

"In a sense," Erik replied as he helped her into the boat.

* * *

Erik carried Lenore through the labyrinthine underground on his back; she would slow him down if he let her walk. They arrived at their destination within minutes of having left the gondola, and he stood her in front of him. From their current position, they had a large view of the entrance hall. 

"I vas 'oping to speak with Lenore," Felix was saying to Ember, Rosalyn, Patrick, and Sebastian. "Surely 'er meeting is over with by now."

"Um, I don't know," Ember said. "I mean, business talks can last for a while."

"Actually, she'll probably have to have at least one more meeting before sealing the deal, if not more. It really takes a long time," Rosalyn interjected.

"So, that unwanted suitor of yours has returned, ma chouchoute," Erik whispered in Lenore's ear as they watched Ember and Rosalyn attempt to send Felix on his way.

"What does that word mean?" she hissed back. He neglected to answer.

"…you should probably all be going, it is getting somewhat late, and we have to be up early tomorrow to catch a flight," Rosalyn was saying, attempting to usher the three boys to the door.

"Hey, Ember, we got the house and stage areas all cleaned up and thought we might watch a movie," Lily bubbled, appearing in the entrance hall. "There's a place to hook up my laptop backstage, and that huge screen that can be lowered over the stage…it's gonna be just like a movie theater."

"Might we at least watch a movie with you?" Sebastian asked, giving Rosalyn a dashing smile.

"Well…" Rosalyn said hesitantly.

"We were thinking of watching Phantom of the Opera," Lily informed Rosalyn in the hopes of helping her make a decision.

"Oi, that's fitting, ain't it?" Patrick stated.

Within the next minute, the boys somehow talked the co-managers into letting them stay to watch the movie. "Now I can talk with Lenore when she returns," Felix proclaimed with a smile.

Erik wrapped an arm around Lenore's waist protectively, pulling her back against him. He only released her when the company in the entrance hall had disappeared into the theatre. "Would you like to see the show, ma petit?"

* * *

"Um…yes?" Lenore responded, wondering what exactly he meant by 'the show'. She hoped he meant the movie, though it was quite possible he was planning to kill someone and considered that a spectacle that might interest her. "It is one of my favorite movies…" she said, hoping to clarify his intentions with that statement. 

"I'm glad you like it," he replied, leading her through the darkness once again. "Monsieur Leroux kept poking his nose around, so I finally wrote my story down for him to get him to leave. I never dreamt it would catch on."

"I'm just going to pretend I never heard that," Lenore muttered. "People would tell me I'm crazy if I said the Phantom wrote the novel himself."

"The world takes little convincing to label someone mad," Erik responded. "One brief moment of mental instability will make society believe you are insane; it takes much evidence to prove genius. It's quite ironic. Society searches for genius and at the first sight of it, they are skeptical and do not wish to believe. On the other hand, insanity is unwanted in the world, yet it is found in infinitesimal actions and quickly believed without opposition."

"It is a cruel irony," Lenore agreed as they walked on. Moments later, they exited the dark, hidden realm right outside box 5. He let her go in and sit down first, making certain she couldn't run away from him too easily. Taking his own seat, Erik wrapped his arm around her waist lest she try something stupid, like jumping out of the box.

* * *

Lily put the disk into her laptop, waited for the title menu to appear, pressed play, and darted back out into the corridors that would lead her to the box where the rest of the group was sitting. Passing Box 5, she thought she heard voices, but she dismissed it as the movie.

* * *

Erik was enjoying this production of his story. He found the cast to be delightful; the girl playing Christine was lovable, with a beautiful voice. The man unfortunate enough to be stuck with the part of the Vicomte was easy to hate and portrayed the Vicomte as an utter fool. And the man playing his part was doing a spectacular job singing the title song. As the actor transitioned into 'Music of the Night', Lenore leaned her head against Erik's shoulder and sighed with deep contentment. 

Probing her mind carefully so she would not notice his presence, he discovered that 'Music of the Night' was her favorite song from the movie, and that she cried at the end every time when Christine left with the Vicomte. _So you are obsessed with me, my little one. You believe you would've stayed had you been in Christine's place…If you ever see it, you will leave, just as she did._

Feeling eyes on him, he glanced over to the box where her friends sat and found Lily staring at him in shock. She couldn't see him clearly, he knew that for a fact, but she could certainly tell he was there with Lenore.

He looked down at the girl whose head rested against his shoulder, and he noticed she was close to nodding off. "Come, you are too exhausted to stay up much longer," he whispered to her, pulling her to her feet and whisking her away.

* * *

Lenore yawned sleepily and snuggled closer to the warmth beside her, not wanting to open her eyes. Finally, she was right up against it. When she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, her eyes shot open despite her desire to sleep some more. She remembered lying in the gondola on the return to the lair, her eyelids getting heavier as the boat was rocked by the lake. She was in the Phantom's bed now, and that was no surprise to her; it was the fact that the Phantom was in the bed with her that astounded her. 

She began to panic, thinking perhaps he had violated her while she slept last night, though she seriously doubted she could have slept through a man making love to her. She quickly noted they were both fully clothed and breathed a sigh of relief. Looking around the room, Lenore saw his mask lying on a table close to the bed. _I could see his face…he wouldn't know if I looked while he slept._

Gently pushing herself up enough to see his face clearly, she was disappointed to find the deformed half of his face wasn't visible because of the way his head rested on the pillow. _Maybe I can turn his head so that I could see it…just gotta do it slow and gentle._ She tentatively extended her hand towards his face.

"Do not even think about it, Mademoiselle," he said, opening his eyes (though she could only see the left one, which glared up at her threateningly). Lenore retracted her hand quickly, realizing that her intentions had been somewhat cruel. She wouldn't want him to look at her legs while she was sleeping.

"Sorry," she apologized, lowering herself back onto the bed. "I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat, ma chouchoute," he informed her, running his right hand through her hair. She shivered at his touch, a shiver of pure passion, a tremor from the depths of her sexual desire that begged to be satiated. "Close your eyes." She felt him, inside her mind, forcing her to obey whether she wanted to or not. He needn't have worried, for she had every intention of complying with his wishes.

_Why do you want my eyes closed? So you can put your mask back on before I can see anything? I want to see you, Erik. All of you. Do you want to see me in the same way? Or do you just wish to see the darkest part of me? The part of me that has given up hope? The part that hides so much, keeping me company only in the dark early hours of morning when I have nothing to think about, nothing to keep myself preoccupied and push these thoughts out of my mind, these thoughts that always come back? Can you see it, Erik? Is that what you want to see?_

She barely felt it at first, a light sensation of something touching her lips, just barely meeting hers. _Is he…kissing…me?_ Lenore tried desperately to open her eyes, to see him so that she could be sure this wasn't some dream sculpted by a heart craving love and acceptance. Pain shot through her entire body and the Phantom's presence inside her mind intensified, robbing her of all control. She was now a puppet for him, only moving part of her body if he willed it so.

Quite suddenly, his lips crushed into hers, no longer hesitant. Erik's kiss was aggressive to say the least; she felt as though his lips were ripping her soul from her body and devouring it in the attempt to feed a ravenous, predatory beast that would never be satisfied, a beast that would hunger for eternity. Her heart began to race and flames consumed her body. But these flames were somehow welcome to her; they were not the ones that came to strip her of her life in her dreams. These were the blazes of life, suffocating her and screaming to be put out. Erik's hands, one cupping her face and the other resting at her lower back, cooled her skin, quenched the conflagration, and she wanted him to touch every part of her. She wanted to pull away from him and press closer at the same time, but he had reduced her to a marionette that must wait for the puppet master's command. Lenore groaned into his lips, frustrated that he had stolen her will, her humanity; for his powerful presence governing her entire being made her nothing more than a toy for him.

Sensing her vexation, Erik began to trifle with her senses. The scent of roses, her favorite flower, overwhelmed her nose, drowning her in the heavenly odor. A warm spring breeze frolicked across her skin, lessening the sweltering heat that threatened to consume her. Visions of a rose garden burned the back of her eyelids, and she felt herself slipping from reality into this garden he had created to spare her the feeling of helplessness under his control. Music, dark and seductive, filled the garden, drifting to her reclining form on the warm breeze. In his garden, she was once again in control of herself. She reached out a hand, touching the roses that surrounded her. She thought of standing, to look out over the entire paradise he had provided her. Rose vines snaked up into the air and twisted together over her prostrate body, confining her in the most heavenly cage. The gentle wind found its way in through the petals, bringing her that enticing music, and Lenore could swear she was no longer breathing oxygen; rather she drew the blood-red flora of love into her lungs and sustained life from the tender petals.

"_What are you doing to me?_" her mind called softly, battling against the euphoria Erik had submerged her in. "_Where am I?_"

"_You are where I have sent you, the edge of heaven. Nothing can touch you here, ma chérie. You are safe,_" his voice responded soothingly. "_Relax; listen to the music of the night._"

"_This is the music of the night? This is what you hear?_"

"_Bien sûr, Mademoiselle,_" his lyrical voice replied.

Somehow, she knew the meaning of his words, knew that he was confirming her suspicion. "_It's so beautiful, Erik._" She knew that wasn't the right word. She couldn't begin to describe the beauty of the musical genius that caressed her ears with any words known to man. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, reveling in this realm Erik had gifted her. The back of her mind kept trying to tell her something, but she ignored it. Nothing could be as important as the sinfully delightful music that Erik was sharing with her. But her mind would not be so easily dismissed.

_You're giving in! The darkness will ravage you. Don't listen to the music of the night, you'll only end up hurt. When he finishes feeding off you, he'll cast you aside. Just like Casey tried to. You could see through Casey, but you can't see through Erik. He's blinding you with ecstasy. Open your eyes!_

_No, you're wrong. The darkness is my friend, and the music is my inamorato. Maybe Erik is feeding off me, but he won't cast me aside. He's not blinding me with ecstasy, I don't have to open my eyes to your supposed truth._

_Lenore, he'll never love you like he loved Christine. You'll always be 'second best', nothing more. Christine was his angel of music; you can never be that. Your voice is too low to sing as she did. And you're ugly, he's only playing with you because he knows men have neglected you. He's trying to gain your trust in a rather ignoble manner, and you're giving in to him._

_You're wrong…you have to be. I'm not just 'second best'…am I? I know I can't sing like Christine, but I don't want to be like her, she left him. And he wouldn't kiss me if I was ugly…would he? He doesn't have to gain my trust; he already had it to begin with. You're a liar, don't talk to me._

She silenced the part of her mind that protested indulging in Erik's creation of paradise. The music of the night dominated her hearing once again, and she sighed in contentment. Slowly, the scent of roses left her. The breeze that cooled the consuming flames stilled, and the garden disappeared. The music of the night faded from her hearing, and she opened her eyes to find Erik on top of her, the mask once again hiding his hated deformity. Lenore could not explain why, but she began to cry.

* * *

Erik took her in his arms and consoled her, assuring her it would be alright. He knew what caused her tears, even if she did not. Now that she had heard his music, and given in to it, she could not bear to be without it. "I will let you hear it again, ma chouchoute," he whispered to the sobbing girl in his arms. 

Lenore looked up at him, tears staining her cheeks. "Now. I want to hear it now, Erik," she begged.

"No," he said firmly. "Perhaps this evening, if you behave yourself today. Dry your tears and get dressed." He left her to make breakfast and he could not help but smile. Unlike Christine, this girl welcomed the darkness. _You are what your name suggests, Mademoiselle; you are light itself. But light cannot exist without darkness. Darkness is the master, and light, the slave; for if darkness ceased to exist, light would have no purpose._ Some people might argue that it was the other way around, that light created darkness, therefore making darkness the slave. But the truth was that light created darkness so that light would have a purpose to serve. It had created its own master, chained itself in servitude to its creation.

Returning to the bedroom fifteen minutes later, it seemed to be empty at first. Then he saw her, sitting in a corner in the blue dress, her knees hugged to her chest as she trembled. "Lenore, are you well?" he asked, walking over to her.

"June 10th today," she whispered, her eyes staring off into space.

"Yes…" he agreed, wondering what significance that had.

"Bad day…bad day," she said. Lenore began to rock back and forth slightly, tears in her eyes, and Erik feared for her mental health. Entering her mind, he was assaulted with chaotic images that darted away before he could truly see them. One image kept reappearing; flames in the darkness, that recurring nightmare that haunted Lenore. He retreated from her mind, assuming this was the anniversary of the traumatic experience that she hid. It most likely had occurred within the last few years for her to react as she did.

Erik knew he needed to keep her preoccupied, keep her mind from lingering on the trauma. Pulling her to her feet, he took her out into the lair for breakfast. She picked at her food the entire time, not really eating much at all. When he had finished eating, he took her plate, knowing she wasn't going to protest as she had no intention of partaking in the meal. He then led her over to the organ, sitting her on the bench.

"Do you know how to play, Mademoiselle?" he inquired.

"I can read sheet music," she replied. "And I can play the melody, though it's painfully slow for me to work it out."

He rifled through the stacks of his work and pulled out the most complicated melody he could find. "Try this," he suggested. "Do not ask me a single question; you will know if you get a note wrong. Concentrate on the music." After he was sure she was immersed in the music, he slipped out of the lair.

* * *

Ember sighed as she walked back into the Opera House. The rest of the gang had returned to America, including Rosalyn, who was going to finish packing and shipping their things overseas. _Well, it's just me, Erik, and Lenore now…not like either of them are very sociable. I could call Patrick and ask him to come over, but I don't know if that's a good idea…Felix will want to come over and see Lenore. I can't keep coming up with meetings that prevent her from seeing him. Opera is a difficult business, that's for sure…If I remember correctly, the Opera House has a stable; maybe I should check its condition. I could get repairs done and shop around for some horses._

Ember reached into her bag and pulled out the blueprints she had obtained from Monsieur Beaumont, finding the location of the stables and setting off. She had no difficulty whatsoever following the map, and, taking all the correct corridors, she reached the stables in less than five minutes. She entered, amazed at how clean it was; it was in perfect condition from what she could see. She noticed there were two horses in the stalls, and a dark figure was saddling the chestnut mare.

"Oh, are you and Lenore going somewhere?" she asked the Phantom casually, as if she saw him every day.

"Your sister is not well today, Mademoiselle Parker; she needs an outing to keep her mind off certain events," he responded just as casually.

"That's right, it's June 10th," Ember muttered, walking over to the stall. "Don't worry too much, she'll be fine tomorrow. She just gets a little weird on the anniversary of the accident. Like last year, she wouldn't eat anything all day. And the year before that, she couldn't sit still. She kept sitting down to do something and walking away from her project five minutes later."

"What happened to her that affects her so?" he inquired nonchalantly.

"Well, if she hasn't told you herself, then I'm not gonna tell you either, cuz it's not my story to tell. But, she almost died…that's why she has psychological issues on the anniversary," Ember offered, watching him bridle the horse. "So where are you two going?"

"The Louvre," the Phantom responded. "I've been looking for an occasion to see it for the past one hundred years or so, and your sister's health is just the sort of reason I need."

"The Louvre?" Ember repeated. "You're going to go out in public? In the daytime?" The Phantom merely raised an eyebrow at her in response. "You realize you're going to stick out in those clothes, don't you?"

"My clothes will not be what draws people's attention, Mademoiselle," he mumbled darkly.

"Well, yeah, the mask too…but you could at least put on more modern clothes. It would help a bit," Ember suggested.

* * *

Erik pondered once again how that girl had managed to get him out of his Opera House. One minute he had been refusing to leave, the next he was sitting in a cab with the stubborn wench. 

"How's it coming?" Ember called from outside the dressing room.

"As well as can be expected," he replied tiredly. _These Parker girls will be my undoing…_

"I have to see it on you when you've got it all on, okay?" Ember reminded him cheerfully.

"Tell me, Mademoiselle, is your entire family obsessed with me, or is it only yourself and Lenore?" Erik inquired. Ember had tried repeatedly to get in the dressing room with him, claiming he might need help with the pants.

"Well, if my brothers are obsessed with you, I certainly don't want to know about it," she replied. "You sure you don't need any help?"

"The only help you could provide would require you to be silent, something that you seem rather incapable of," Erik informed her, finishing with the last button on the shirt.

"Well, someone's a bit less than sociable today," Ember muttered.

Erik emerged from the dressing room, terribly uncertain about her choice of clothing. He disliked the short sleeves on the shirt, and could not quite understand the purpose of the shirt underneath being emerald green. Not that the undershirt was much of a shirt to begin with, as it lacked sleeves entirely.

"Okay, first thing's first, no gloves," Ember said, walking over as he removed his gloves. She began unbuttoning his shirt. "The whole point of the emerald green tank top is to show it, which you can't do with this black shirt buttoned up. How do the pants fit? Too tight around the waist?"

"Why do I need these dreadful breeches? I can assure you they won't last half as long as the ones I have now."

"You need them because they're modern. I can't help it that they're poorly manufactured. Stop complaining, and tell me how the pants fit."

"They're too tight."

"Around the waist?"

"No, Mademoiselle."

"Oh," Ember said, glancing down briefly. "We'll try a size bigger then, shall we?" With the graceful moments of a dancer, she hurried over to the rack and checked sizes before procuring another pair of pants. "Try these."

A few minutes later, he was ready to be assessed by Ember once again.

"Alright, how's this pair?" she asked.

"They fit," he responded simply.

"Well, you're going to have to beat the ladies off with a stick, Erik," Ember said in approval.

"Why would I need to attack women?"

"You won't have to if you can run fast enough…" Ember mused. "Think I could come along with you to the Louvre?"


	9. Chapter 9

First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.

Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.

Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).

**Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.)** I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.

* * *

Lenore was beginning to hate herself. _He must be appalled, I know I'm butchering this piece_. She didn't recognize it, and it didn't sound like any of the classical works that she'd heard before. Taking a brief pause to locate the composer's name, she silently cursed herself and reached a new level of self-hatred. _Of course I had to be f#cking up **his** music. Erik must be itching to kill me and put the piece out of its misery._ She glared at Erik's name scrawled on the parchment with contempt. Why couldn't he have given her something a bit simpler than this?

"Hey, you're not doing half bad, Lenore," her sister's voice sounded behind her.

"Oh great, hallucinations this year," Lenore grumbled.

"I hope I'm not a hallucination…" Ember replied, coming up beside her sister. "Come on, you gotta change, we're going to the Louvre."

"I'm not going anywhere with a hallucination, thank you very much," Lenore informed her supposed hallucination of her sister. "Least of all the Louvre."

"I was hoping you would enjoy the outing," Erik said behind her.

"Lord, it's getting worse…I'll end up in a psych ward at this rate." Strong hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her up from the bench.

"Am I still just a hallucination, ma chouchoute?"

"Um…you could be, cuz I'm still seeing my sister…"

"Well, if you're going mad, I must be too, for I can see her as clearly as you can," Erik reasoned.

"What's ma chouchoute mean? My what?" Ember inquired curiously.

"I've been asking that since yesterday," Lenore added. "You've stumped both of us, Erik."

"You will know when I wish you to know, now go with your sister and get changed," he said, releasing her. Ember grabbed her sister's hand and dragged her to the bedroom, handing her a floor-length white skirt with a rose print and the accompanying button-up sleeveless blouse.

"This has to be a dream," Lenore said as she changed from the blue dress into the outfit her sister provided.

"Nope, not at all. I found him in the stables, see, and then took him out clothes shopping. Wait till you see him, he's a knockout," Ember assured her sister.

"This is definitely a dream. There's no way you took the Phantom of the Opera out clothes shopping," Lenore contradicted, finishing the last of the buttons on her shirt.

"I must confess, I am rather puzzled as to how she managed to get me out of my Opera House," Erik admitted outside the bedroom, waiting for the girls to be ready.

"My Opera House," Lenore mumbled possessively. Ember sighed and pushed her sister out of the bedroom back into the lair. Erik was leaning against the wall a few feet away, wearing black dress pants and an emerald green tank top with a black, short-sleeved, button up shirt left unbuttoned over the tank top. "Now I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this is a dream. No man could ever look that good in reality." Erik raised an eyebrow.

"Told you she'd like it," Ember giggled.

Erik offered Lenore his hand and she took it instantly, staring at him transfixed. He led the two girls into a corridor where the horse he had saddled earlier waited. Ember swung up onto it and reached down a hand to help her sister up.

"Mademoiselle, I do not believe that you should ride astride," Erik said, giving her a look that clearly stated disapproval.

"Nonsense," Ember argued. "I'm wearing capris, not a skirt. And anyways, that's old-fashioned."

"Respect your elders and their wishes," Lenore replied.

"Quite right, ma chouchoute," Erik smiled, putting his hands on her waist and hoisting her up onto the horse behind her sister.

"Whatever, I'm not riding like a sissy girl in the 1800s," Ember muttered as her sister wrapped her arms around her waist, noting that her sister was riding side saddle. "Somebody's a whipped lapdog, isn't she?"

"I have to be good so I can hear the music," Lenore told her sister.

* * *

Ember was truly amazed at the artwork lining the underground passageways. _Why are we even bothering to go to the Louvre when these corridors are so adorned with art?_ She had the feeling that the Louvre might prove disappointing after the beautiful sculptures and paintings lining the corridor. (It seemed Erik had constructed a tunnel underground leading to several exits throughout the northern half of Paris, one of the exits located in the Louvre.)

Finally reaching their destination, Erik stopped the horse and helped Lenore down, leaving Ember to dismount by herself.

"Bloody wonderful manners, sir," Ember snapped.

"If you ride like a man, I shall treat you as one," Erik informed her.

"See if I ever take you shopping again," Ember threatened.

"That's hardly a punishment," Erik pointed out.

"Why do you men have to be so infuriating?" she grumbled, kicking a small rock into the blackness of the tunnel behind them.

"Because you women are amusing when irritated," he replied smoothly.

_Do. Not. Fall. To. Pieces. _"Ha! Don't make me laugh," Ember returned coolly. "'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Or did you miss that quote while you were wallowing in self-pity in the darkness?"

"Actually, Mademoiselle, the quote is 'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.' It comes from the play "The Mourning Bride" of 1697 by William Congreve," Erik said curtly.

"No way," Ember argued stubbornly. She couldn't possibly have said the line wrong…could she?

"It's true; don't worry about it, many people misquote the line. They also attribute it to William Shakespeare."

"Well, I knew it wasn't Shakespeare, I'm not that stupid." A laughing smirk touched the corners of Erik's lips. "I don't know how you stand this man, Lenore, he's positively exasperating."

"You don't know the half of it," Lenore countered.

"Is he treating you badly?"

"Well, not really…but he did wash my mouth out with lye soap for saying the s-word," Lenore whined.

"Aww, you poor thing. He's absolutely cruel to you," Ember said, drawing her sister into a comforting hug and glaring daggers at an unconcerned Phantom. Lenore sniffled into her sister's shoulder.

"If you two are done with your performance, we can continue on our way," he told them, seeing through their charade.

* * *

Lenore smiled as she viewed the paintings of Francois Boucher. Erik's hand was clasped tightly in her own. _They always say that Paris is the city of love…That, or he just doesn't want to take the chance that I'll try to run away. Especially in a large crowd like this; if I ran and he caught me, I could start yelling 'rape' and people would come to my aid. The police would arrest him, and I could testify against him in court as a murderer…Yeah, let's not look at this hand-holding thing as a sign of love so much as him keeping himself safe._

"Red alert," Ember suddenly hissed, scooting away from Lenore. Before Lenore had a chance to ask what her sister was on about, Erik jerked her into a side hallway, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist, holding her close.

"Vell Patrick, if it isn't your bonnie lass, Ember," Sebastian's voice drifted around the corner.

"Hey guys, how you doing?" Ember greeted jovially.

"Vell, I'd be doing much better if I 'ad 'eard from Lenore," Felix complained.

"I told you, she's really busy. She doesn't really have time for a social life right now," Ember replied.

"Is she in some kind of trouble?" Sebastian inquired. "I mean, ve almost never see 'er."

"Oh, no, she's fine," Ember assured the concerned men.

"Will you 'ave 'er call me tonight?" Felix practically begged.

"I can try, but no guarantees…I may be her big sister, but she doesn't always listen to me."

"Oi, why don't you two go concern yourselves with Lenore somewhere else?" Patrick suggested.

"Of course, Patrick, if you wanted to be alone with Ember, all you 'ad to do was say so," Sebastian laughed as they began to leave the two lovers to their own devices. Dread flooded Lenore; their footsteps were headed straight towards her and Erik.

"Felix, does Lenore have your number?" Ember said suddenly. The sound of footsteps lessened, which indicated that Felix had stopped. But Sebastian had not.

"Well, Mademoiselle Devlin was supposed to give it to her. But it's possible that she forgot," Felix reasoned, his footsteps retreating from the corner.

_Sebastian, turn around! If you want to live, turn around! Damnit, there's no where for me and Erik to hide. This is bad, very bad. Somebody's gonna die today…_

Sebastian came into view, eyes on the opposite wall of art before they gazed around the corridor, stopping on Lenore in surprise. "Lenore?" he said in shock.

"I can explain everything!" Lenore replied in a panic. It was only then that she noted Erik was no longer holding her; she'd been so worried about what was going to happen to Felix and Sebastian that she had failed to notice when he let go of her. "My meetings got cancelled, you see, and I knew Ember was coming here today, so I'm looking for her."

"Vell, you're in luck; she's just around zee corner," Sebastian said, taking her hand and gently tugging her back the way he had come. "Felix, look who I found," he said when Felix, Ember, and Patrick were in sight.

"Lenore?" Ember said, raising an eyebrow in question to Erik's whereabouts.

"My meetings got cancelled, and I thought it'd be nice to join you here and see a bit more of Paris," Lenore explained.

"It must be my lucky day," Felix grinned, coming over and putting an arm around her shoulder.

* * *

Erik was standing far enough away so as not to be noticed, but close enough to hear the conversation. _Lucky day, indeed. What a shame that luck is bad._ The arrogant boy had put his arm around Lenore's shoulders, pulling her closer in a silent claim of possession. _You'll not have her as long as I breathe, Monsieur Deville, I can assure you of that._

"Why don't I take you for lunch, ma chérie?" Felix suggested, already leading her to the exit without waiting for her consent.

_Insolent boy, you have no place to call her that. You've known her for only a few brief hours; that is not long enough to be on affectionate terms with the woman. If you ever have the audacity to set foot in my Opera House again, it shall be your tomb.

* * *

_

Lenore ended up being dragged around Paris all day by Felix. She would've found it very enjoyable if she hadn't felt Erik's eyes on the two of them the whole time. At first, she wasn't all too concerned about Felix's safety; when Felix decided they should have a chance to be alone and separated from Sebastian, Patrick, and Ember, Lenore became horridly jumpy.

After dining at a small café that evening, Felix took her to a dance club called La Java, which turned out to be about 2 miles from the Opera House. She prayed that Erik would just go back and wait for her, but she felt his eyes upon her as Felix led her onto the dance floor. _Erik, this is awkward enough without you watching me; please, please, please, please go back and wait for me._

"Ma chérie, you've been tense all day," Felix whispered softly to her, pulling her body close to his. "You are overworked."

"Well, gotta make a living somehow," Lenore replied, trying to ignore his roaming hands as he began to grind against her in time with the music. "Oh, I know this song," Lenore commented when the next song that came on was 'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls.

"They play music from all over zee world here. When they play zis song, everyone has to switch partners," Felix informed her, letting another man whisk her away. Lenore quickly lost count of how often people switched partners during the song, and each man she ended up with seemed to enjoy groping her as much as Felix had. _Such a shame I can't get out of here; Felix will come looking for me if I leave without him._

Lenore danced for hours, never managing to get off the dance floor for more than a few minutes every hour. She finally managed to catch a glimpse at Felix's watch and found it was past one in the morning. _Damn, no wonder I'm exhausted. Maybe I can get him to take me home now…_

"Felix," Lenore began, "I think I should be getting back to"-

"Just a few more minutes," Felix insisted, pulling her close and tilting her chin up. He leaned down and gently touched his lips to hers, and her eyes fluttered closed instinctively. Lenore realized she was disappointed; it was horribly mundane compared to the kiss Erik had given her. She didn't feel like she was being consumed, didn't feel the welcoming flames. Needless to say, she was overjoyed when Felix pulled away – until she found out why.

Opening her eyes, she saw Erik knock Felix unconscious before Felix could turn around and see who had a hold of him. As Felix's body crumpled to the floor, Erik grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the exit. Just as they were leaving, Ember and Patrick came in on their left.

"Hey, Leno- Erik?" Ember began.

Without turning to look at the two of them, Erik addressed Patrick first. "You may tell Monsieur Deville that he is far too forward with a woman he has known for less than twenty four hours. And you, Mademoiselle Parker, are out far too late for a respectable woman. Have her back to the Opera House within the hour, Monsieur O'Malley," Erik instructed.

"Oi, as you wish guv," Patrick replied obediently.

* * *

"You picked the wrong lass, mate," Patrick informed Felix as he sat at a table, holding an ice bag to his throbbing skull.

"Was I to know she was seeing another man?" Felix bit back, irritated.

"Well, um, they're not 'seeing' each other," Ember ventured timidly. "That was our co-owner, and he's very conservative. I got a call from him on my cell, asking where we were…he thinks only prostitutes stay out past eleven, and was worried that maybe we'd been hurt or raped or something and that's why we weren't back. So I told him that Patrick said Lenore was probably here at La Java. If I'd known he was going to deck you, I wouldn't've told him," Ember lied. "What were you doing with Lenore that made him hit you anyway?"

"I kissed 'er," Felix replied.

"That's being 'too forward'?" Patrick laughed.

"Like I said, he's very conservative," Ember returned.

* * *

"Um, I can't feel my hand anymore," Lenore whispered timidly as Erik pulled her into the Opera House by her wrist. She knew she was in trouble; she could practically see steam coming out of his ears. If he heard her complaint, he chose to ignore it.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Mademoiselle," he said sharply.

"I didn't do anything wrong, per say," she muttered.

"You were dancing with that boy like a common harlot!" he hissed angrily as they descended into his dark underground. "You were out with him at an unreasonable hour, which could tarnish your reputation."

"One o'clock is not an unreasonable hour!" Lenore argued. "If you're out after three, that's getting a bit iffy, but not one! And I wasn't dancing with him like a slut, everyone dances like that these days! That's hardly whorish, it's not like I was stripping for him or something. But why should you care how late I'm out or how I dance with a man? You know, I think what's really upset you is that he kissed me."

There was a sharp pain at the back of her head, and it took her a moment to realize he'd flung her into the wall. _That's the fourth time in the past seven days. Is he trying to give me a concussion or something? Obviously I touched a sore spot though…he's jealous, so that means he does like me! The Phantom of the Opera likes me…maybe I should worry about surviving this altercation before I jump to conclusions and start planning the wedding…_

"Could you please stop throwing me into walls? It really hurts," she informed him.

"Did you enjoy it, Mademoiselle?" he snapped fiercely, referring to Felix's kiss. "Did you feel that 'spark' you've always been waiting for?"

"First off, stay out of my head, especially the part that dreams about romance! Secondly, no, I didn't enjoy it, for your information!" she snarkily notified him. "Not that it's really any of your business, but it was extremely dull. You did me a favor by knocking him out, I was close to dying of extreme boredom."

* * *

Erik was struck speechless by her answer. He had expected her to be like Christine, to beg to be released so she could be with some idiotic boy that didn't truly love or deserve her.

"It's not like it really matters…he wouldn't have wanted me when he found out," she whispered so softly he almost didn't catch it. _What is it that makes you think you are undesirable, ma chérie? A man would have to be a fool not to want you._ "Erik, can you carry me? I've been on my feet almost all day, and my legs are killing me."

Erik swept her feet out from under her, not at all sure what to say to her. It was awkward, having been so angry and jealous, only to find out that she didn't want to be with that boy. As he carried her through the underground, he realized the gondola was back in the lair; he'd have to take the long way around the lake. _It's a blessing this girl is so light; under one hundred pounds if I'm not mistaken. _When they finally reached the lair, Lenore was fast asleep, too exhausted from the day to have her usual troubling dreams. After laying her in bed, he retrieved his sketchbook and returned to the bedroom; this would be a good night to sketch her, as she was at peace for once.


	10. Chapter 10

Before we get started, I'd like to address a review I got. To the reader who sent me the review about Lenore being an idiot because she doesn't say anything when Erik is rude and violent, and she doesn't leave, she just stays with him: Firstly, if I were in Lenore's place, I wouldn't say anything to him if he got 'violent' with me either. He can rather easily kill people. To quote Christine in Andrew Lloyd Weber's version "He kills without a thought"! So, in the interest of protecting her life, Lenore doesn't call him out on being violent that often. She has mentioned it before on one or two occasions, if you were paying attention. Now, secondly, Lenore can't leave, even if she really wanted to. Her company is compensation for Erik's salary until they have enough money to pay him and keep the Opera House running at the same time. And we allknow what happened to Firmin and Andre when they neglected to pay his salary. The last thing Lenore wants is a disaster that could result in casualties; therefore, she will not leave. (Not to mention if she did try to leave/escape, he'd have no problem catching her, and then he might get violent. Better to avoid the violent moods if we can…) I believe you also commented that Erik was a control freak…have you ever seen the movie? Have you ever heard the soundtrack? "My power over you grows stronger yet" (self-explanatory…controlling!) "The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind" (once again, self-explanatory) "Only then can you belong to me" (woman viewed as a possession that he can own) "Your chains are still mine, you belong to me/you will sing for me!" (Christine viewed as his pet or possession) "In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me." (Obviously viewing himself as being dominant, and the master of the relationship, as he says that Christine has given in to him.) I'm sure there are numerous other examples, those were just the first ones that came to my mind. The only suggestion I can give you, dear reader, is that if you do not like the way Erik is acting in my fic, don't read it. I will be sorry to see you go, if that is your choice. But Erik is a violent, dangerous, controlling man. Another readerdescribed my Erik quite perfectly, so I will quote her now: "Erik has been locked away for God knows how long-- of course he's dangerous, to say the least! He'd be especially screwed up in the head…"

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…..

* * *

Lenore stretched and yawned; she'd slept well for once, not waking up continuously from bad dreams. She was somewhat disappointed that Erik wasn't in bed with her, but you can't always have everything your way.

"Good afternoon," his voice came from her left.

"What time is it?" she asked through another yawn, turning to look at him. He held a mass of emerald green material in his hands, and she could tell he was sewing. _Another dress for me, I'll bet._

"One thirty six," he replied after checking a pocket watch.

"No way, I've never slept past one…except when I was on morphine, but I couldn't help that," she mumbled into the pillow.

"Would you care to check the time yourself?"

"That would require me to move, which would require energy, which I am sorely lacking right now, so no," she groaned, rolling over onto her back to stare at the ceiling. After a few moments of silence, she groped around the bedside table until she found her glasses, then pushed the bifocals onto her face. "It's gonna rain today," she stated.

"What makes you say that, ma chouchoute?" he inquired casually.

"My arthritis, that's what," she grumbled.

"Arthritis? At your age?"

"Yeah, bloody wonderful, isn't it?" Lenore sighed. "So, is that for me?" She gestured to the fabric in his hands.

"Yes, and if you can be patient for five more minutes, it'll be finished," Erik informed her politely.

"Five minutes? Think I could go get something to eat while you work on it?"

"It is far too late for breakfast, and the same can be said for lunch. I'm afraid you'll just have to wait for dinner."

"Dinner? I'll die of starvation if I have to wait that long!" Lenore whined.

"You may lose a few pounds, but you most certainly will not die," Erik argued. "This little fast may help to remind you that sloth is one of the Seven Deadly Sins."

"You're gonna punish me for sleeping?" Lenore moaned. "Next time I buy a building, I'm gonna make sure there's no ghosts in the basement. Of course, that's assuming I don't die of starvation here." Silence. "If I lose a few pounds, those dresses won't fit anymore." You could have heard a pin drop in the Opera House above them. "You're vicious."

"I am strict, Mademoiselle. If I give in to you every time you gripe about some insignificant thing, you will become spoiled," Erik said, a smile touching his lips as he waited for the protestation that was most certainly coming.

"I do not gripe about insignificant things!" she shouted angrily. "I'm complaining that you're not feeding me; food is necessary to sustain life!"

"Will it kill you to wait five hours to eat?"

"Yes!"

"I mean literally, ma chérie."

"No…" she admitted grudgingly.

"Will it affect your immediate health?"

"No…"

"Then how is it significant?"

"…I hate logic. Anyway, other that that, do I complain about anything that isn't important? No, I don't," Lenore ascertained, praying he didn't have another counterexample.

"You complain every time I try to look inside your mind."

"Yes, because it's detrimental to my emotional well-being," she defended herself. _Gotcha on that one, didn't I?_

"It is still a rather pointless thing to whine about. If you would tell me what I want to know, I wouldn't have to"-

"If I tell you what you want to know, you'll be like everyone else!" Lenore hissed, her eyes burning with anger. "I don't need your sympathy, and I don't want special treatment!"

"My prying into your thoughts is not something you can control as it is, so I see no point in complaining," he continued, ignoring her outburst.

"You're already becoming them; you don't listen to me," she muttered bitterly, turning her back to him.

"With a disposition such as yours, I can't imagine anyone pitying you. You should keep your temper in check; you are absurdly emotional for a woman of your age."

"Guess I missed growing up while I was in the hospital. So sorry," she bit back, not turning to look at him. "All things considered, I would much rather have grown up than been stuck in the hospital. It's the worst psychological torture society can inflict on you. Oh sure, everyone sends cards with money, or presents, or flowers, or balloons. But there's nothing to do. You just lay in bed in your room, watching one of the three channels available, which never has anything that catches your attention, so you end up focusing on the fact that you're ill. Something's wrong with you, and you can't take care of yourself, you can't control it. And you can't get your mind off it. All you have to do is look at yourself, any part of yourself, and you know you're a wreck, broken physically or emotionally, or maybe both.

"The people who come to visit you and "cheer you up", that's the cruelest part of it all. They don't know what to say, and when they make an attempt at conversation, they talk softly to you, as if you're dying. They look at you with that goddamn pity, like they know what you're going through, like they've been there. "It'll be alright" they tell you, as if everything's going to be the same as it was before, once you're better. It won't. It won't ever be the same, never again. You'll remember every day for the rest of your life, remember that you're broken, that you're maimed and incompetent till the end of your days. The world makes sure you can't forget, makes sure you end up limited in what you can do with your life, now that you're damaged.

"It's like trying to glue a vase back together; though it looks like a great repair, there's always a few chips of the porcelain missing, leaving defects that limit you in your capabilities. And everyone can see the lines where you broke. And they pity you, treating you as though you're about to fall and break again at any moment, like you're too frail to do anything anymore. Not strong enough."

* * *

Erik stared at the back of her through her rant, watching as the bitter distrustful persona slowly melted to show the lost and frightened little girl underneath. She had seen the ugliness of society, she knew the harsh reality, and she wanted someone to protect her from it. But she would never have what she wanted, because she viewed everyone in society to be the same, and no one could be trusted. She had unwittingly made herself an outcast, and now that she was alone, she realized her mistake, desperately wanted to fit into the mould with everyone else; but her rose tinted glasses had been shattered, and she could only see society with a glaring clarity that she abhorred.

_You want someone to love you, to see society the way you have. To understand the cruelty of life, that one moment is all it takes to ruin your entire future._ He saw a slight tremor in her shoulders; she was crying. _You feel this every day, don't you ma petite? It's a wonder you've not killed yourself yet to end the misery and pain._

Discarding the dress, he moved over to the bed, taking her in his arms and pulling her back against him. Lenore began to sob openly, her cries echoing through the lair, those aching howls of a dying soul whose hope had been shattered by reality. When she finally quieted, he turned her in his arms to face him; her tear-stained eyes pleaded for protection. _You believe I could be your guardian angel, but playing the part of an angel did not end well for me last time, ma chérie. Demons are not meant to enjoy any aspect of heaven; I was punished mercilessly for masquerading as a seraphic being.

* * *

_

His eyes told her he wanted to help her, but something held him back. "You're comparing me to her, aren't you?" Lenore asked softly. "Erik, I'm not Christine."

"If you saw beneath the mask, you would be horrified, Mademoiselle," he whispered back. "You claim to be ugly, but it is I who truly am."

"You can't know how I would react," she argued stubbornly. "As for you being ugly, 'Beauty is not in the face; beauty is a light in the heart.'"

"I have no light in my heart," he responded tiredly, as though it was a bother to have to explain something that should be so obvious.

"You did once…you called it Christine," she whispered back. "The light may dim, Erik, but it never goes out. If I know anything at all, I know that the light is always there, if you look hard enough. Do you know how many times I thought about killing myself, ending this miserable existence? But every time, I saw a small flicker of light, something to live for. One more event, maybe a visit from a friend or a new movie coming out that I wanted to see. "Just one more", I'd think, "and that'll be it. Just one more." So what kept you going after Christine left you? Your music, right? One more symphony, one more concerto, and that'll be it. But one leads to another, and another, and another…The light never goes out."

"Ma petite, you are truly as your name suggests; you are light. But do you honestly believe you can conquer darkness?"

"As light, I do it all the time," she replied with a smile, hoping she could convince him that there was something left to him other than darkness.

"You have yet to defeat your master, ma chouchoute. Oh, you may restrain him, and to a great extent in some instances, but he always prevails in the end," Erik disagreed.

_This is sounding disturbingly familiar…sort of like our relationship, whatever that is. I think I win, and sometimes I come very close, but he always gets the last word and I end up conquered once again. Why do you always win, Erik? Are you simply better at manipulation than me? Or are you the master, and I a mere slave to your will?_

"What does that French word mean?" she asked, trying to change the topic until she could think of some response disputing the dominance of darkness over light.

"Having difficulties figuring it out?" Erik replied with a smirk.

"No, I really do know what it means, but I want to waste time and make you tell me," Lenore said sarcastically. "Obviously I can't figure it out, otherwise I wouldn't ask. There are far too many contexts that it could be placed in. It could be something along the lines of 'my friend' or 'my child'. Or it could be more affectionate, like 'my dearest' or 'my love'. But it really is impossible to tell, seeing as how I have an incredibly limited background in the French language. I can say 'hello', 'good-bye', and 'yes'. That's about it."

"Well, I'll give you a hint. Ma chouchoute is a phrase that is used affectionately," he supplied.

"Okay, I know it doesn't mean 'my cabbage', cuz it doesn't sound right for that," she muttered, trying to figure out any other terms of endearment it couldn't stand for.

"My cabbage?" Erik questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"You wouldn't know, you haven't seen North to Alaska. Where was I? Let's see…ma chérie means something like my dear…I can't think of any others. Why didn't I learn French before I came to France?"

"I doubt any teacher would have deemed this phrase as something necessary to know," he interjected.

"Okay, affectionate but not something necessarily important to live in France. Maybe 'my precious'?"

"No."

"My sweet?"

"Wrong again."

"My doll?"

"Incorrect."

"My…mistress?" Lenore inquired, inwardly wincing at the thought of that being the correct response. At the same time, she hoped it was the right response, as she was quickly running out of affectionate terms.

"Take another guess, kitten," Erik prompted with a smirk.

_Maybe he just gave me the answer. That would explain why he's smirking._ "My kitten?" she tried, a small smile crossing her face at the thought that she might have won this little game.

"Close, but not quite right," he responded, the smirk growing wider.

"I give up! I can't think of another phrase, especially not one that comes close to my kitten," she complained. "Just tell me already."

"It's quite obvious; you'll feel like a fool," he warned.

"Well, it'll do my pride some good then," she grumbled. "What does it mean?"

Erik leaned in, till his mouth was right next to her ear. "Ma chouchoute means 'my pet'," he whispered.

"Are you using 'pet' to mean an animal kept for companionship and amusement, or a person who is exceptionally loved and is the object of affection?" Lenore inquired just as softly as he had spoken.

"Both. Mostly the first," he informed her.

_Finishing blow to the self-esteem. Ouch, that's positively painful to hear._

"The truth hurts," Erik said.

"Stop that! I swear, is nothing sacred?"

"Demons are made to disregard all that is sacred. We quite enjoy it."

"So you're a demon? Please, don't make me laugh. Demons are the minions of Satan, and I can't possibly believe you're anyone's minion," Lenore argued. "If, and I stress the 'if', you're any unholy being, you'd have to be the Prince of Darkness himself. After all, I was always warned that when the devil approached me, he would be fair, likened in appearance to an angel. So, are you trying to tempt me into giving you my soul, Mephistopheles?"

"Why bother tempting you into giving, my little cherub, when I can easily take it?" He pressed his lips against hers forcefully, and Lenore once again felt that he was tearing her soul out of her body.

"_God will turn his wrath upon you, devil,_" her mind chided as the flames of lust licked at her body.

"_Au contraire, your Lord will weep, my sweet angel, for you put up no resistance. You crave a taste of Hades, and that is far worse than succumbing to temptation._"

Lenore found this kiss to be more endearing than the first; she adored being in control of her own actions. His lips broke contact, sliding down a bit to plant feathery kisses on her pale neck. "Oh God," she whispered, her heart racing as the heat of those invisible flames intensified.

"Praying, my angel?" he inquired between kisses.

"Begging forgiveness for my sins," she replied, twining her arms around his neck and moving closer. He gently nibbled at her ear, and she couldn't stop herself from arching her back, pressing into him; he had found her weak spot. With a feral growl, he flung her down on the bed, slamming down on top of her as his ravenous lips met her own, the unsuspecting prey falling to the predator. She was drowning in his passion; the oxygen she took in was not sufficient for sustaining life. Her mind was screaming that she should push him away, at least long enough to catch her breath, but she ignored it. What did her head know anyway? Maybe the Egyptians were right and the heart was the center of knowledge. And her heart suggested spreading her legs for this man.

Slowly, Lenore became aware of a pain that was increasing in the left-hand corner of her mouth. His mask was gradually cutting into her tender flesh. She moaned softly, trying to get his attention long enough for him to realize he was inadvertently hurting her. However, her moan only served to arouse his passion further, for the kiss became more violent, and the mask pierced her skin with such force that she couldn't stop herself from crying out.

* * *

Erik jerked up when she screamed, wondering what he had done wrong. He saw a cut on the left side of her face, just along her lip, and tears stuck in the corners of her eyes. He quickly realized his mask was the cause of her pain, and silently cursed his abhorrent face that seemed determined to rob him of happiness at every turn. To his surprise, she smiled and closed her eyes. "Let me hear the music of the night," she whispered.

For a moment, Erik considered complying. _No, I cannot do this to her. She is innocent, it would be a mortal sin to take the virginity of an angel. _He pulled off of her and returned to the chair, picking up the discarded dress to add the finishing touches.

* * *

She opened her eyes the moment he pulled away. _Is he angry? Did I say something wrong? Why did he just pull away from me? He hasn't seen, he doesn't know…so what brought this on? I never should have let him know he was hurting me…I didn't make a big deal out of it or anything, I was willing to just let it go. God, why is it that no one wants me?_

A few minutes later, he handed her the dress and she excused herself to go put it on. Standing in front of the small mirror over the sink, Lenore examined the cut. _It's not that bad, it'll heal in a few days. Why couldn't he just ignore me and keep kissing me? No, he has to be all concerned when I scream, and pull back…every time I think I'm getting close to finally having sex, something goes wrong. Maybe God wants me to be a virgin until I die…though it doesn't seem fair that everyone else I know has sex and I can't get any._

Sighing and turning away from the mirror, Lenore removed yesterday's clothes and looked at her legs. "You're the source of all my problems, I hope you know that," she mumbled to her lower limbs, giving them a hateful glare. "No one wants me and it's your fault entirely." A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, thinking up brutal ways to punish her legs, even though it would merely cause her more pain and she would never carry any of these ideas out.

"Why does it take women so long to put on clothes?" Erik asked, leaning against the wall right next to the bathroom door.

"Because we have to wear more layers," Lenore replied angrily, her foul mood brought on by his rejection. "Don't complain to me unless you've ever dressed up like a girl, including bra and nylons. Seriously, some bras have three hooks on them, it's difficult to hook all three without one popping off; then you have to go back and hook it again, but then another comes loose…it's a pain. And nylons are just a bother, which is why I practically never wear them."

"It was a rhetorical question, ma chouchoute."

"Certainly didn't sound like one to me," she muttered.

"You seem a bit cross," he remarked casually.

"Go figure," Lenore snapped.

"Have you ever thought of taking anger management classes?"

"Yes, but I realized I'd probably end up killing the instructor in a fit of rage, which would land me in jail. So I decided to spare myself the trouble," she said with mock sweetness. "Perhaps you should look into a support group or self-help books on how to understand women."

"Oh, is this headed towards another "I've been misunderstood and no one loves me" rant?" Erik inquired absently.

"Actually, no. This headed towards a "You're a damn bastard and I'm pissed off at you" rant. You're playing with me, and I don't appreciate it, Erik! I've told you no one will ever want me, and it's downright cruel of you to act like you do only to pull away from me!"

"I believe your last statement falls partially under the category of the "no one loves me" rant I mentioned earlier. Which is quite clearly a lie, as that boy seems obsessed with you," he replied calmly.

"Are you blind? All he wants is a quick f#ck, which is something I'm not about to give to him; he'll ditch me the moment he gets what he wants from me. I can pick out the players, Erik, I spent four years of my life watching them flit around between all the pretty girls in our high school. And if he ever saw, he wouldn't even want me for the five minutes it would take him to have his way with me. So don't tell me that someone wants me, it's a lie. It always was and it always will be," she shouted.

* * *

"You make repeated references to something that can be seen that makes you undesirable. If you wish to know why no one wants you, it's because of your disposition, Mademoiselle, and nothing else! And it's quite clear for anyone to see, if they merely take a moment to look; you don't hide it nearly as well as you think," Erik snapped back, choosing to ignore her profanity.

"How long has Ellen been dead?" Lenore suddenly asked, taking him somewhat by surprise. "A year? Two maybe?"

"Three and a half," he responded, wondering where this was going.

"Okay, try to remember for me. Did she ever wear short skirts?"

"Frequently," Erik answered immediately. That silly girl wore skirts so short that they barely covered her.

"Do I ever wear anything that exposes even an inch of my legs?"

"No."

"Think about that for a while and get back to me," she returned, sitting on the bed and stretching out her legs. He stared at those legs, perplexed. What could be wrong with them? Yes, she limped, but it was barely noticeable, unless you were looking for it. It was torture to resist the impulse to simply walk up to her and bare her loathed limbs, but he somehow managed to restrain himself.

"Come," Erik said softly, offering her his hand.

"Oh, going to return me aboveground and rid your hands of this nuisance?" she snapped, taking his hand nonetheless.

"No, I'm afraid you'll have to stay with me for a while longer," he replied. Lenore seemed to have no response for that as he led her out into the lair, taking her into the niche where he kept his paintings and sketches.

"These are amazing," she whispered softly, stopping in front of a portrait of Christine. "She's very beautiful."

"Was," Erik corrected. Christine was dead now, and he knew for a fact that the beauty would long since have decayed. "That was…a long time ago." He gently tugged her further into what he had termed his studio, seating her in a chair. He needed her close to the easel for color reference, but far enough away that she couldn't quite tell what he was painting, for he had the impression that she would not approve of it.

"So, am I just supposed to sit here and be quiet while you be all artistic or whatever?" she inquired.

Erik supplied her with parchment, a charcoal pencil, and an eraser to keep her occupied. It worked like a charm; much like handing a little girl a rag doll, it ensured she would be kept busy and, most importantly, quiet. The afternoon slipped by quickly, in a blessed silence. "What are you drawing, ma chouchoute?" he inquired, coming up behind her.

"Anime," Lenore replied. "It's a Japanese art form. What about you?"

"Oil painting. You'll have to wait until it's done before you can see it," Erik explained.

"That's not fair, my stuff's not done and you're looking at it," she whined.

"A sketch takes little time compared to an oil painting, ma chérie, and is therefore considered to be less of a masterpiece. Also, you are an amateur artist, whereas I am not. Continue working, dinner will be ready in a half hour," he said, leaving her there.

* * *

_I could get up and take a quick peek at his work…he wouldn't know…_ Lenore stood up without pushing back the chair, afraid he would hear the legs scrape along the floor. Taking one tentative step forward, she had barely touched her toes to the floor when,

"_Sit down, Mademoiselle._" Erik's voice echoed through the lair.

"I am sitting," she lied, wondering how he had known she was standing when he couldn't possibly see her.

"_I thought you knew better than to lie to me, ma petite._"

"How do you know I'm not telling the truth? You can't see me, you could be entirely wrong. And anyway, is it a crime for me to stretch my legs?"

"_I can tell you are lying because I'm inside your head at this moment, and your intentions are to look at my painting before it is finished, which I have expressly forbidden,_" Erik answered. "_Now sit down, or I will come in there and tie you to the chair._"

"Damn you and your mental powers," she muttered darkly, plopping down into the chair. "There, I'm sitting now, you don't have to tie me down."

"_Good girl,_" he praised her as if she were a child.

"Keep that up and I'll slap you when you come get me for dinner," she growled.

"_That doesn't provide much incentive for me to feed you then, does it?_"

Lenore took a deep breath and counted to ten before responding. "Fine, you win this round," she conceded. "Somehow you always win. But one of these days, you're going to slip up and I'll come out on top."

"_I'm too dominant to ever allow you to be on top, ma chérie._"

"Oh my God! That was sexual innuendo from you! Wow, that's disturbing…and…seductive…and…God! Don't ever do that again, you're confusing me!" Lenore replied. "You're supposed to be all chivalrous, not perverted."

"_Watch yourself; blasphemy is a sin,_" Erik reminded her.

"What is it with you and bad language? You're like my mom, and she's a religious fanatic," she said. "I can't say anything around her either."

"_She is merely worried about your soul's final destination, something that you should also be concerned about._"

* * *

Erik was beginning to believe that her home life was the source of her childishness. It seemed her household was a rather restrictive one, which is never good for an artistic soul like Lenore's. She was a dreamer, and he had the feeling that dreaming was considered a waste of time by her parents. The only thing it seemed her parents had done correctly in the process of raising her was to make sure she would obey authority nine times out of ten.

Throughout dinner, he pondered her childhood, wondering why she kept it hidden from him. What could she have to conceal? Perhaps she had been abused, or sexually harassed, that would certainly account for it. There was also the possibility that she simply didn't want to remember her childhood because she disliked it for no particular reason.

"Tell me something about yourself," Erik demanded at the end of dinner. He knew the wine would have her somewhat loose, less worried about things.

"Like what?" Lenore asked.

"Anything. A childhood memory, or…" he trailed off, leaving it open for her debate.

"Let's see, a childhood memory…Oh, there was that time back in elementary school…Let's see, three of my friends were chasing me out to the blacktop for recess. They loved to try to catch me and drag me into one of squares; you know, the squares they paint on the blacktop for games, like hopscotch or four square. It was a challenge; I was the slipperiest kid in the class. I wasn't fast, but I was damn good at wriggling out of their hands. And this one time, I tripped and hit the pavement. Got this huge scrape right next to my left eye. The scab went from the corner of my eye back to my hairline. It left a small scar, but you can't see it unless you know to look for it. That was my first scar…I thought it would be my only scar, but God thought differently it seems."

"Not exactly a pleasant memory," Erik commented. He had hoped for something more meaningful, something more explanatory about her character.

"I remember those girls like it was yesterday…Jess, Sara, and Ashley. I wonder how they're doing…They stopped talking to me after elementary school," she said sadly. "No one wanted to talk to me in middle school, I didn't wear the designer clothes and I wasn't pretty."

"Would you like to draw some more?" he inquired, standing and offering her his hand.

"No, but I'll come along, I don't wanna sit in the bedroom by myself with nothing to do," she replied. So half an hour later, she was sitting in the chair, going on about another childhood memory that provided him with no insight to her character whatsoever, when a chime sounded throughout the lair. "What was that?" Lenore asked.

"I must leave you for a bit; stay where you are," Erik commanded. He couldn't tell her what that alarm meant; she wouldn't like it.

"Why? Where are you going? What's going on?"

"Just stay put, I'll be back shortly."

"What's going on?" she repeated, standing up. "What did that sound mean?"

"It means that some poor souls have had the misfortune of stumbling over one of my exits and are now wandering the tunnels," he explained, waiting for the pointless and inevitable question.

"You're not going to kill them, are you?"

"Sit down; I won't be long," he replied, not wanting to answer her question.

"No, I'm not going to sit down! You're not going to kill them! You can't do that, they're innocent people, Erik. It's not their fault they're down here; they don't know that coming in here is suicidal. You can't do this!" she protested. "This is my Opera House you're living under, and I won't have you killing innocent people!"

"Firstly, it is my Opera House," Erik informed her, walking over to her and pushing her back down in her chair. "Secondly, I will kill whomever I please, Mademoiselle; you have no say in the matter. And last but not least, I am merely protecting my existence, girl. The alternative is, at best, eternal imprisonment, as I would be found guilty of quite a few homicides. You can be certain that if I am revealed to society, they will not stop until they catch me and bring me to what they term justice. Should I be revealed to society because you would not 'allow' me to kill a few pests, I assure you I will leave you bound and gagged in the darkest crevice of these passages that I know. And unless there's someone out there with knowledge of the underground as extensive as mine, you will not be found. Now, are you willing to die for the sake of these hapless intruders?"

"You're not going to kill them," she insisted, glaring up at him.

"How do you intend to stop me?"

"I'll follow you. If you kill them in front of me, then I'll know you truly are a monster," Lenore hissed, standing up again.

* * *

Erik sighed and turned away from her, walking out into the lair. She got up and followed, afraid he was going to kill those poor people despite her protestations. He retrieved a rope from another niche, which seemed to her a sure sign he was going out to slay innocent souls of misfortune. Taking her upper arm, he guided her back into the studio, returning her to her chair.

"What are you doing?" she asked hesitantly. Erik's presence suddenly filled her mind and she couldn't move. He proceeded to tie her to the chair, releasing control of her only when he was certain she couldn't get loose.

"I will return shortly, ma chouchoute," he told her, giving her a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

"Erik, get back here!" she shouted as he disappeared. "You can't just leave me like this! What if something catches on fire? I could burn to death! Get back here and untie me!" She jerked around in the chair, hoping to scoot herself out into the main lair to continue yelling at him, but Lenore only succeeding in upending the chair. "Damnit," she mumbled, laying on her back and staring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and sighed heavily.

_How can you do this? Those people don't deserve to die, not like this…not for this reason. Couldn't you just get inside their heads and make them leave? Please don't do this, please. Just come back here and sit with me…you shouldn't leave me all alone, what if I managed to get loose and tried to run away?_

A squeak sounded to her left about fifteen minutes later, and she opened her eyes, turning her head in the direction of the sound. A black rat was standing a few feet away, staring at her with its beady black eyes.

"Oh. My. God. That's a rat, because it's too big to be a mouse," Lenore said. She wasn't afraid of rats, per say. As long as the rat didn't touch her, she didn't have a problem with it. With another squeak, the rat scampered closer to her. "Oh dear, this is going to be bad. Murphy's Law: Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." The rat gave her a questioning look that made her wonder if it could understand her. It climbed up onto her shoulder, and Lenore began taking deep, slow breaths to prevent herself from hyperventilating.

Continuously squeaking to her, the rat proceeded to crawl over her breasts and down her stomach as she wriggled fiercely beneath it in the attempt to fling it off of her body. Once it had thoroughly ventured over every part of her abdomen, it began crawling up one of her legs, stopping atop her knee and giving Lenore the impression of a mountain climber who had just scaled Mount Everest. Peering down at her, it cocked its head to one side and chattered its teeth.

"He is pleased with you," Erik said, walking over.

"Get it off!" Lenore demanded, wondering how long he'd been back.

"Cristoph will not harm you, Mademoiselle," Erik assured her, taking off his cloak and merely dropping it on the floor.

"Cristoph could be carrying a multitude of diseases!" she snapped back. "Get him off of me!"

With a sigh, Erik slowly approached and held his hand out to Cristoph. The rat crawled onto his hand and up his arm to sit on his shoulder. There came forth from Cristoph a multitude of squeaking. "No, she is not," Erik told the rat when it finally stopped.

"You're talking to a rat," Lenore muttered. "About me. That's just…a bit odd."

"He believed you to be my mate, and close to giving birth," Erik informed her.

"What? How did he ever get that impression?"

"Your breasts."

"No way. I'm not even a B cup, there's no way in hell he could possibly think me large enough to feed children," she argued.

"To a rat, ma chouchoute, you look rather…buxom," he replied.

"Okay, let's move the subject away from my bosom and in the direction of untying me from this chair," Lenore said, not wanting to think about a rat checking out her womanly attributes. "That rat is too damn smart…"

"That's all my doing," Erik replied, crouching down next to her. "I began conversing with the rats about a hundred years ago; each generation became a bit more mentally evolved than the last."

"You'd have to be insane to start talking to rats," Lenore murmured.

"Or extremely lonely," Erik pointed out.

"Are you just gonna sit there or are you going to untie me?"

"I'm merely wondering how you managed to tip over the chair," Erik said with a shrug.

"I managed it with great skill and cunning, now stop wasting time and untie me," Lenore insisted, struggling fruitlessly against the bonds to try and emphasize her point.

"And what would you do if I decided to leave you like this all night?" he inquired, a smirk gracing his face at the idea of leaving her in this vulnerable position, entirely at his mercy.

"I'd scream at the top of my lungs until you decided to untie me to shut me up," she answered smugly.

"I could easily drown you out with my organ, child," Erik informed her. "And I don't imagine you can scream for as long as I can play. But that is entirely beside the point, ma chérie. If I wished to gag you, you would be powerless to stop me."

"How do you do it? How do you win every argument?" she grumbled.

"You let your temper get the better of you; I keep my temper in check, allowing me to easily defeat you with simple logic," he replied.

"Well, one of these days, logic's going to fail you, and then I'll win. And I won't ever let you forget it either," she returned.

"That seems a bit extreme, don't you think?" Erik said. "After all, I don't remind you every time I get the better of you."

"Of course you don't, because you always get the better of me," Lenore explained. "If I actually manage to best you once, I'm going to have to keep bringing it up to make myself feel better when you're pointing out all the ways you can win the argument."

"It is rather uncouth to continuously remind someone of their mistakes. Perhaps I should leave you here to help you learn a moral lesson," he threatened.

"I'm far too old for punishments to be effective in teaching moral lessons," Lenore replied heatedly.

"Have it your way," Erik said, standing up and taking a few steps away. Lenore let out an ear-piercing shriek that echoed marvelously off the walls, filling the lair with its shrill sound.

* * *

Erik winced; that sound was at the top of the scale of human hearing, and he might have a rather difficult time drowning it out with his organ. Not to mention if she kept it up long enough, the echoes could cause a cave-in.

"Is it your intention to bring the ceiling in on us?" he inquired when she stopped to take a breath. "Or did you forget that the reverberations of your voice can be devastating in tunnels such as these?"

"Maybe I'd rather be crushed to death by falling rocks than spend the night on the cold floor tied to a chair," Lenore retorted. "Look, I'm sorry that I'm a pain, and I promise I'll be good if you just untie me."

Erik turned, looking into her pleading eyes. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to give in just this once, to let her have her way. It would either strengthen her obedience or shatter it entirely. She was promising to behave, but promises were too easily broken. He crouched down beside her and pulled a knife from his boot. "If you break that promise, Ellen will have good company in your sister," he threatened. It let her have her way, but made sure she knew that he was not going to tolerate any misbehavior.


	11. Chapter 11

So, home for the summer, won't be updating all that often cuz I don't have a constant internet connection. I'm not allowed to spend all my time on the computer here at home like I do at college...so updates will be few and far between. Sorry about that.

Also, you need to know that my version of Erik is more like Gerard Butler than Gaston Leroux's version so far as looks are concerned. Just so you know. (And though the siren in the lake is actually Erik in Gaston's novel, for my story, there's actually a siren living there.)

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…..

* * *

Lenore lay in the bed, staring the ceiling as Erik slept next to her. _This is, without a doubt, the worst dilemma of my life. I can try to sneak out and get my sister out of here so she'll be safe…but if I get caught, she dies. Yet if I don't at least warn her, he'll kill her and she won't have the smallest inkling what brought on her death, because it's impossible that I can behave forever. I will slip up eventually; it's just a matter of time._

_So, let's say I do go, and that I don't get caught. Ember and I can leave Paris, just go back home. True, it'll be a pain to get someone to sell this place for me, but that's nothing compared to what we'll avoid. But then on the other hand, if I get caught, he kills Ember. And if I don't go warn her at all, she'll probably end up dead anyway…This is a decision no one should ever have to make._

Lenore carefully got out of the bed, making sure not to disturb Erik. She tiptoed out of the bedroom into the lair, up to the edge of the lake. She knew she would never be able to handle the gondola, but she didn't need it for what she was planning. She took a step into the lake, and the cold water seemed to urge her to return to the warm bed, to give up this silly quest. _It's for Ember, just remember that._ She put her other foot in, and began walking forward, immersing herself deeper, about to her waist before she started shivering. Her feet and hands were beginning to feel numb, and she knew she needed to start swimming, but it was torture to make her limbs propel herself through the water, out into the darkness of the underground.

She pulled herself through the water determinedly, until her shivering finally stopped and she couldn't feel anything in her arms or legs at all. _Wait, why am I out here again? Ember, that's right…not like it really matters…not like anything really matters._ Suddenly, something grabbed her leg, yanking her under the surface. It had been too dark to see anything above water and below the surface Lenore could imagine she was floating in space, except for the fact that she was holding her breath.

"_Pretty little girl, why are you all alone?_" a mellifluous female voice inquired. "_I'll be your friend, you can come and live with me. I'll give you everything you want. Lots of delicious sweets, beautiful clothes, jewelry that would make a queen seem a pauper._" It was the most appealing thing she'd ever heard, somehow, and she was more than willing to go with this voice that offered her everything. "_All you have to do is take a breath. Just breathe in, and you can stay with me forever. You'll never grow old, and you'll have everything. I'll give you the world, if that's what will make you happy. Come with me and be my friend._"

Without a second thought, Lenore released the oxygen in her lungs and took in a mouthful of water. She felt a horrible burning pain in her throat as she spat it out, trying to take another breath but only succeeding in consuming more water. She began thrashing around, trying to get back to the surface, but strong arms were wrapped around her waist. Slowly, her thrashing began to lessen, and she knew she was losing consciousness. She tried to hold what little oxygen she had left in, tried to resist the need to empty her lungs of the water that was flooding them. When she felt something brush against fingers, she instinctively grabbed hold.

* * *

Erik felt a tug on the oar and almost lost his grip. Quickly changing his stance, he began pulling the oar up, but something tugged it down in response. "Damn wench," he muttered, not sure if he meant Lenore or the siren. Maybe it was for both of them. When Lenore's hand broke the surface of the water, he reached out and pried her death grip off of the oar, then jerked on her arm, pulling her half out of the lake and into the gondola. She coughed ferociously, ridding her lungs of water as the siren, arms wrapped tightly around Lenore's waist, growled viciously at Erik.

"_She is mine, Phantom, she came to me,_" the siren snarled in a voice that sounded like sandpaper grating on stone.

"I brought her down here, therefore she belongs to me," Erik argued. "I gave you three mortals today. Was that not enough, you gluttonous btch?"

"_She came to me,_" the siren repeated.

"You will not devour my pet, or I will gut you like the worthless fish you truly are," he hissed. With a shrill, angry shriek, the siren released Lenore and slid back into the murky depths. Hauling the rest of her into the boat, Erik noted that Lenore had finished coughing and was hovering on the edge of consciousness, shivering violently. _Moderate hypothermia and a near-drowning…what were you thinking? I specifically told you to stay away from the lake._

Throwing his cloak over her drenched form, Erik lost no time in returning to the lair. He needed to get her warmed up, before she slipped into severe hypothermia and required professional help. The moment the gondola touched the stone floor of his dwelling, he threw his cloak out of the boat and proceeded to strip her on the spot, as she was now unconscious. It was imperative that he get her out of those wet clothes as soon as possible. Every article must be removed. Though he knew she'd be positively livid when she learned he had seen her naked, he personally valued her life over her pride and dignity.

The bodice was the first to go, followed immediately by the brassiere. He wanted to rip these garments off quickly and be done with it, but he had to go slowly, taking great care to be gentle. Hypothermia weakened the heart, and any handling that was less than gentle could kill her.

The skirt was next, and he inadvertently stopped to stare at her lower legs. Below her knees, the skin was covered in third degree burns and scars from where the surgeons must have gone in to fix whatever was wrong. The nature of the burns left dents in her flesh and muscle tissue, likening her legs to a region of valleys and hills. He could barely find an inch of skin that wasn't marred between her knees and ankles.

Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he removed the last of her undergarments, leaving her entirely bare before him. Gently lifting her into his arms, he stepped out of the gondola and carried her to the bed. After setting her down, he yanked off his shirt and boots, silently thanking God that she'd had enough damn sense to do this at night when he wasn't wearing a cravat, waistcoat, and frock coat, as it would've taken a bit longer to get down to his skin. His pants were thin, and heat would be easily transferred through the fabric, so he didn't waste time removing them.

Lying down next to her, Erik pulled the blankets up over the two of them, wrapping the covers as tightly as possible around Lenore to prevent as much heat loss as possible. He then held her in his arms, her bare breasts pressed against his chest. Wanton desire flooded him, and it was pure torture to know that all he had to do was remove his slacks; she would never know.

* * *

Lenore moaned. If this was death, it sucked. Her muscles ached, her lungs felt raw, and she was wrapped up so tightly, she couldn't even move. "Am I dead?" she rasped, hoping for a particular answer, be it from St. Peter or the Devil.

"No, you're fine." It was Erik who replied.

"Damn you, I was fine where I was, I didn't need help," she complained. She wasn't quite alert yet, one of the lingering effects of hypothermia.

"You almost drowned," Erik pointed out. "And you managed to contract moderate hypothermia. What were you thinking? I told you not to go in the lake, you could've been killed."

"That was the idea, now go put me back where you found me so I can get on with it," she snapped. Slowly, things were being to dawn on her. _I'm naked…Erik is holding me, and he's not wearing a shirt…_ "Please tell me that's not what I think it is," she mumbled when she felt something hard pressing against her upper thigh region. He neglected to respond, which assured her it was exactly what she thought it was. _Dear God, he's huge! How can it possibly fit in any girl? Wait a minute, if I'm naked…_ "I hate you."

"It was necessary to save your life, ma chérie," he sighed, knowing what had brought that statement about.

"Well, now you know why no one will want me," she snarled. He had no right to do that, to look at her legs, all those horrible scars. He slowly began extricating himself from Lenore and the blankets. "Where are you going? Please, don't kill Ember, it's not her fault."

"Calm yourself, I'm not leaving you in this state. I'm merely going to make you something hot to drink, as it is more effective to warm a hypothermia victim from the inside than the outside," he explained.

"I don't like hot tea," Lenore warned him.

"Tea is out of the question. It has caffeine, which causes water loss, and you need as much water in your system as possible to aid in your recovery."

Erik left, and Lenore sighed heavily. _The whole idea was to die so that Ember would be safe…how did he know that I'd left? How did he know to look in the lake for me? I mean, I didn't take the gondola, the logical assumption would be that I was going over a dry route… _A squeak sounded from nearby. _Oh damn, it was probably the rat! I bet it saw me get in the lake, and then came to wake up Erik. Well, next time, I'll just take the rat with me._

Cristoph crawled up onto her bosom, settling himself down right between her breasts. "What do you think you're doing?" she mumbled. "Don't try to fool me with this cute, sleepy animal thing, I know you're evil." It seemed an eternity before Erik returned with a steaming mug. "Get the rat off."

"He's trying to make sure you stay warm," Erik explained, ignoring her request. After having her drink the hot chocolate he had fixed, he inquired about her little escapade. "What were you trying to accomplish, Mademoiselle?"

"I was trying to kill myself so my sister would be safe, obviously," she replied. "But it doesn't matter, because she's as good as dead now."

Erik looked at her for a minute, as if calculating something. "I will let it slide, just this once," he finally said. "Only because of your condition, ma chérie. I will not see you have a relapse."

* * *

Erik looked at his watch on the table. Another hour had passed. Setting down his brush and palette, he returned to the bedroom to check on Lenore. She was sitting up in bed, reading a book, with Cristoph on her lap. She was becoming quite good at letting Cristoph perch on her.

"I'm fine, Erik," she said, not even looking up from her reading. "It's been two weeks now, I would think the danger is past. You don't need to check on me every hour."

"I'm merely making sure you don't try to run off and attempt suicide again," Erik lied, not wanting to admit that he was worried about her.

"That's what your rat is doing. My mother may have raised an idiot, but it most certainly wasn't me. You never leave my side unless Cristoph is with me. Did you think I wouldn't catch on to that?" Closing the book, she set it down beside her. "Can I at least get out of bed?"

"You shouldn't rush your recovery," he replied.

"It's been two weeks, Erik! Two! A full fourteen days! It's not like I had severe, death-is-imminent-without-professional-help hypothermia! I think I can take the risk of getting out of bed!" Without waiting for his approval, Lenore moved Cristoph and threw back the covers, swinging her legs out over the side of the bed.

Erik strode over and glared down at her. "You need your rest," he insisted.

"Yeah, well, when a doctor tells me that, I'll listen. Unless you can show me a Ph.D., you might as well give up," she replied, standing. Her legs wobbled a bit beneath her, and she grabbed onto Erik's shirt to keep from falling. "See? No problem."

"You almost fell."

"But I didn't."

Knowing she was determined to get out of the bedroom whether he condoned it or not, Erik swept her legs out from under her and carried her out to his studio. He could show her the painting, as he had just finished it. Of course, the paint wasn't dry, and he had yet to sign his name, but other than that, it was complete.

"My God," she breathed the moment she saw it. She reached a hand up to touch the canvas and Erik grabbed her hand before she could smear the paint.

"It's still not dry yet, ma chérie," he informed her.

* * *

It was a painting of her, lying in a field of roses, naked. Thorny vines snaked around her body in various places, and a rose in full bloom was placed in the area where her thighs met. Her favorite part of the painting was her legs, for they were perfect on the canvas. "My God," Lenore repeated. "It's…amazing…You're an artistic genius, how many people can paint like this, play and write music like you do? I hate you now, I can't do anything like this. You can sew, and cook, and read minds…is there anything you don't do?"

"Well, I don't recall having flown before, but then again, I've never really tried," Erik replied with a grin.

"Do you think that maybe I could go aboveground today?" Lenore suggested. "I mean, Ember's probably worried, and I know my mom's gonna be upset because I haven't called."

"I suppose I could allow it, on one condition," he said. "You must stay in your bed; you are still too weak to be up in my opinion."

"Alright," she agreed. After all, it was better than nothing. And he probably wouldn't be watching the whole time, so she could sneak out of bed at some point. Of course, she'd have to be quick, so he wouldn't catch her breaking rules, but she wasn't too worried. If push came to shove and she couldn't get back to bed quickly under her own power, Ember could always carry her.

* * *

Rosalyn got off the phone feeling remarkably proud of herself. She had just managed to land another dinner date with the owner of a large corporation. If all went as well as she hoped, the Opera Populaire would have another patron by the end of the week. Beaumont's company had agreed to support the business, on the condition that, should something go wrong and the business go under, their company would not have to try to sell the building to someone else.

"_Welcome back, Mademoiselle Kendall,_" the Phantom's voice rang out. "_So nice to have you with us again._"

"Well, what can I say? I'm a sucker for near-death by strangulation experiences," Rosalyn replied sarcastically. "Get to the point, please, I have work to do."

"_Lenore is in her room, if you wish to see her,_" he informed her.

Without giving him a response, Rosalyn quickly made her way from the office to Lenore's room, grabbing Ember from the ballet dormitories on the way. Rosalyn opened the door and Ember rushed into her sister's room, flinging herself onto the poor unsuspecting girl in the bed.

"Be careful," Lenore grumbled. "If you're too rough, Erik'll take me back down and I won't get to see you for a long time."

"Why?" Rosalyn asked, seeing no point in wasting this precious visit exchanging pleasantries.

"To make a long story short, I had mild hypothermia and almost drowned, and when you have hypothermia, your heart is weak, so rough handling can kill you. That was two weeks ago though…He really needs to stop fussing over me like I'm deathly ill," Lenore complained.

"Hypothermia…What were you doing in the lake? You're not even allowed out of the bedroom without permission, I can't possibly see him allowing you to take a swim," Ember replied.

"I was breaking the rules and trying to commit suicide to keep you safe. You see, if I misbehave or make him angry, he's going to kill you. So I figured if I killed myself, then he wouldn't have any reason to kill you." Lenore proceeded to tell them about her suicide attempt. A slight blush covered her cheeks when she stopped at the part where she was barely conscious in the gondola.

"And then what?" Rosalyn inquired, knowing there was more to this story.

"Nothing, I was unconscious," Lenore answered, the blush intensifying.

"Well, what happened when you regained consciousness then?" Ember prodded.

"Nothing."

"Well, since you can't tell us, we won't give you your presents," Ember said with a smirk.

"Presents?"

"Tomorrow's your birthday, idiot," Ember informed her sister. "How could you forget?"

"There isn't a calendar in the lair, it's easy to loose track of the date," Lenore mumbled in defense. "And you can't keep my birthday presents from me."

"Oh yeah? I should think it'd be rather easy."

"I'll get them myself," Lenore said defiantly, throwing back the covers and preparing to get out of bed.

"_Did I not make it clear that you are to stay in bed?_" Erik's voice sounded throughout the room.

"You planned this, didn't you?" Lenore accused her sister.

"Well, you said he was fussing over you, so I figured there was a good chance you weren't allowed to get up," Ember said with a cruel smile. "Now spill or no presents."

"Devious wench," Lenore muttered. "Fine. I woke up in bed with Erik, naked."

"Did you"-

"No, you pervert, get your mind out of the gutter."

"But life is so much more fun down here," Ember teased.

* * *

"Rosalyn, this is absolutely beautiful," Lenore said, looking at the necklace she had received from her friend. It was a cross necklace, with blue and white cubic zirconias set into the gold cross. "It must have cost a lot."

"I guess; my cousin said she got it from her ex-boyfriend and didn't want it anymore, so she gave it to me. And you know I don't really wear jewelry all that often, so I figured you'd appreciate it much more than me," Rosalyn explained.

"I will," Lenore assured her, already in the process of fastening the chain around her neck.

"This is from Mom," Ember said, handing Lenore an envelope.

"A phone card," Lenore sighed after opening it. "Could she be any more subtle?"

"Is the coast clear, Rosalyn?" Ember suddenly whispered.

"All clear," her friend responded.

"Alright. For your twenty-first birthday, I got you something extra special," Ember told her sister, handing her the package. "I want you to use it as soon as possible, understand?"

"Um…sure…?" Lenore said, tearing off the wrapping and opening the box. She pulled out a black, lacy, halter top gown. "Sis, what is this?"

"It's a nightgown, silly," her sister replied with a mischievous grin.

"I'm supposed to sleep in this?"

"Whoever said anything about sleeping?"

"You're positively awful," Lenore giggled. "There's no way I'm wearing this."

"But it'll make you look soooo fuckable," Ember said. "Erik won't be able to keep his hands off you."

"No, I'm not going to seduce him into sleeping with me," Lenore argued.

"Hey Lenore, you said that because of the hypothermia, Erik didn't want anyone to handle you too roughly. So he doesn't let you do anything that might be too…strenuous right?" Rosalyn asked.

"I know exactly where you're going with this, and I'm not telling you whether or not he undresses me at night," Lenore snarled.

"That means he does," Ember squealed before she and Rosalyn launched themselves onto Lenore.


	12. Chapter 12

So, this part took awhile to get out, for a whole lot of reasons. First, this is the first chapter that I hadn't had already typed up before posting the chapter before it. Which meant I had to finish typing the chapter. Then I had my wisdom teeth removed, and couldn't sit up for long periods of time, so I wasn't on the computer at all. And then after that, I decided to rearrange my room, and then went and bought a new (and bigger) bed. So then I had to clean things up and move things in my room so it could be delivered. And I have relatives coming in to visit for the next ten days, so I won't be on computer for two weeks (which really sucks) cuz I'll be busy doing stuff with them.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Erik returned to see if Lenore was ready to come back with him, and took a moment to listen to their conversation.

"I'm going to kill you two," Lenore snarled viciously.

"Stop being such a baby; after all, you're gonna be twenty one tomorrow," Ember scolded.

"Are you ready to go, ma chouchoute?" Erik inquired from his position behind the mirror.

"She is more than ready," Rosalyn replied, grabbing Ember's arm.

"Come, friend, let us away. 'Tis the proper thing to do," Ember said. The two left the room, giggling profusely.

_I'm not quite sure I understand women some days…_

Erik entered the room and quickly scooped Lenore up into his arms, returning to the underground as fast as possible.

"I wasn't ready to go," she grumbled as he carried her through the darkness. "Why did you listen to them? Can't you tell they're up to something?"

"Whatever they are 'up to' is none of my concern," he said dismissively.

"Keep telling yourself that," she mumbled, looking extremely cross.

"Perhaps it was unwise to let you aboveground today; you seemed to be a bit distressed," Erik noted.

"I'm fine!" Lenore snapped. "Never been better." Deciding not to upset her further, Erik let the subject drop. It wasn't worth her health. "I can walk, you know."

"I highly doubt it."

"Then let me prove you wrong." She began squirming in his arms, trying to get her feet on the floor.

"Stop it," he hissed. "You'll only hurt yourself."

"Nonsense; it's not walking that'll hurt me. The muscles will atrophy and then I won't be able to walk at all. Put me down," Lenore ordered.

"As you wish," Erik said with a smile, still holding onto her. She quit wriggling to make it easier for him to release her.

"What are you waiting for, hell to freeze over?" she inquired when he had yet to turn her loose after he had agreed to.

"You failed to specify when you wished me to put you down, Mademoiselle," he pointed out.

"And logic bites me in the ass again," Lenore sighed. "Pardon my language." She yawned and rested her head against his shoulder, her eyes slowly slipping shut. He shouldn't have let her out today; it had been far too exhausting for her.

* * *

Lenore woke up, wondering exactly what time it was. It didn't really matter to her though; since Erik considered her health at risk, she was allowed to sleep and eat whenever it pleased her, within reason. _It can't be much past six, I'm not hungry yet. I'll find out when Erik comes to check on me anyway._

She heard a skittering sound and looked around, finally seeing Cristoph's tail disappearing into the lair. "That rat can be damn useful sometimes," she mumbled, sitting up. Erik appeared within thirty seconds. "You didn't have to rush."

"How are you feeling?" he inquired, leisurely strolling towards the bed to prove that he was in no hurry. She shrugged evasively in response. "Are you incapable of discerning your current state of being?"

"Well, I don't know, I feel kinda…" she started to say, letting her voice drop in volume. Suddenly, her eyes snapped closed and she began falling back onto the bed. Erik's arms were wrapped around her just before she hit, and he gently eased her down the last few inches. "Gotcha," she said triumphantly, opening her eyes and wrapping her arms around Erik's neck. A spark of anger flashed in his eyes. "Sorry. But you're so worried about me, it's cute…I just couldn't resist."

"That was rather cruel," Erik commented. "You had me worried over nothing."

"Sorry," Lenore repeated.

"Would you care for dinner now?"

"Sure."

"Mademoiselle, you must release me before I can go prepare the meal," Erik pointed out.

Lenore removed her arms and let him leave. "Way to ruin the moment," she muttered once he was gone. _Why I am feeling so flirtatious right now? Is it because of this scrap of cloth Ember gave me? Who knew a piece of material could control your attitude towards things?_

Later that night, Lenore was silently cursing her sister's present.

"It is past nine o'clock," Erik informed her.

"I'm not tired," Lenore replied, not bothering to glance up from her book. It was Charles Dickens' _A Tale of Two Cities_. Her first experience with the works of this particular author had been _Great Expectations_, which had excelled in boring her to death. This story was doing worse, if that was even possible. "Besides, I'm at a good part, I can't stop now."

"The story will not go on without you," he said, sitting next to her on the bed.

"But the suspense could kill me," she lied, turning a page.

"Trust me, you'll live."

"Please, just a bit longer," she insisted.

"As you wish; wake me when you decide to retire," he replied, lying down next to her in the bed. Lenore kept reading, despite her lack of interest. The longer she kept the book open, the longer she kept Erik from seeing her in the negligee that her sister had forced on her that afternoon. Lenore would've taken it off, but Cristoph and Erik seemed determined never to leave her alone. Pages slowly became longer, taking more concentration and energy than she had in her.

* * *

Erik opened his eyes a crack and watched her continue to read. He doubted she was as interested in the story as she claimed to be. Her head suddenly fell forward; then, with a jerk, she sat back up, blinking her eyes and trying to suppress a huge yawn. Sitting up, he gently pried the book from her fingers.

"No, I'm at a really good part," she protested.

"Forgive me, ma chouchoute, but I cannot agree with you. The beginning of chapter ten is rather dull," Erik replied after glancing over her current page.

"I'm not tired," Lenore lied.

"Of course not," he agreed. "However, I am. Would you be so kind as to indulge me and retire now?"

"I can't possibly sleep, unless…" she paused, searching for a suggestion, "unless you play me a lullaby."

"That would require me to get up; I'll sing you to sleep instead," he countered.

"No! No, no, it"-

"Then you are ready to retire now," Erik said, his hands on the buttons of her bodice before the words left his mouth.

"Don't you dare!" she shrieked, pathetically attempting to shove his hands away.

"Honestly, Mademoiselle, it's nothing I haven't seen before now," he hissed, continuing to undo the buttons and getting a bit impatient with her.

"Betcha three hundred and eighty five thousand francs there's something you haven't seen before," Lenore growled, still trying to thwart his fingers in their quest of removing her bodice.

"That's a rather high wager," he commented, noting there was one button left. Lenore clasped her hands over the button and glared at him. Shaking his head, Erik changed his tactics and went after her skirt. Lenore began shrieking like a banshee, wriggling desperately to get away from him. This could prove too strenuous for her, and Erik was worried that if he didn't stop soon, she would harm herself.

* * *

Erik had succeeded in ridding her of her skirt, and she rolled over onto her stomach, trying to scramble towards the edge of the bed, away from him. With the speed of a leopard, he pounced on her, trapping her beneath him. His powerful thighs clenched around her waist, ensuring she could not pull herself out from under him. His arms wrapped around her shoulders with lightning speed, colliding painfully with her breasts as he attacked the last button on her bodice.

"Let me go," Lenore demanded, squirming in his grip in the hopes of getting away. Her squirming was doing more damage than anything else; the skimpy nightgown her sister had given her was sliding up, revealing the thong her sister had forced on her.

Erik pulled the bodice off, finally managing to get her arms out of the sleeves. He began to let go of her, slowly sliding off of her, but stopped the moment his eyes came across her exposed backside. _Be a gentleman, Erik, just get off of me and pretend you didn't see a thing._

Time seemed to have halted entirely. Erik neglected to move one way or the other, and Lenore couldn't bring herself to move either, lest she brush against him by accident and fuel his passion.

"You were right; that's not something I've seen before," he finally said.

"I thought we were going to bed," she whispered meekly as his hands began to slide up her sides towards her breasts. Lenore was in the worst of positions. Her mind told her to stop him, and her hormones told her to shut her mouth and let the man get on with it. Her heart had opted to sit on the fence, agreeing that perhaps the mind was right and she was not quite ready, but then again, it felt good and it couldn't really hurt anything to let him take her so therefore her hormones might be in the right instead.

"We were," he whispered, his hands kneading her breasts. She wasn't quite sure how to interpret that response. It could mean that she was right and he should let go of her. Or it could mean that they weren't going to bed anymore, not in the way she meant, at least.

"Erik," she breathed, afraid to stop him and knowing she should at the same time. He turned her over beneath him, dropping down onto her and attacking her neck with his lips. His hands managed to rid her of the skimpy nightgown, leaving her in only the thong beneath his powerful body. Erik's long musician's fingers explored her as she moaned, softly calling out the Lord's name in vain. No one had ever touched her like this before, and it had to be a sin, it felt so good. Her mind's argument was quickly losing ground to her hormones.

* * *

Erik tried to stop himself; this wasn't right, she was far too young and naive. But he wanted a woman badly. No woman had ever let him strip her of her clothes and take her to bed. After a hundred years plus without physical intimacy, he was ravenous for it.

_Dear God woman, just show some sign of resistance or I won't be able to stop myself. Don't let me take you, girl. Express a fear or concern, and I will stop._ But it seemed Lenore was not afraid to let him take her. She groaned when she felt his arousal, practically begging him to take this further.

Deciding she might be physically incapable of protesting, Erik slid into her mind, searching out her current thoughts. _Stop…no, don't stop, this is wonderful…but I'm probably not ready…but it feels so good…what if he doesn't fit? What if I'm not big enough inside for him? Does it hurt, the first time? How do I get him to stop if I feel that I don't want to continue at any point? What if he doesn't listen if I tell him to stop? He wouldn't ignore it and rape me…I don't think…If we have sex, would he take off his mask, or leave it on? In a sense, sex is all about vulnerability and baring everything for your partner's scrutiny. But at the same time, he's so damn sexy with it on…I'm not sure how I'd prefer it, with or without the mask…_

While listening to her inner monologue, Erik trailed kisses down her neck to her breasts. He should stop, she did have concerns…but she seemed eager to go all the way, keeping these concerns to herself. Taking her left breast into his mouth, he gently sucked and licked at her nipple. With a surprising show of strength, Lenore rolled on top of him, reversing their positions so that she could be in control of the pleasure. _I believe I mentioned to you once that I would never allow you to be on top, ma petite._ Erik rolled to his right to revert the situation to what it had been seconds prior.

During this process, the blankets caught hold of his mask, ripping it from his face as he was positioned above her once again. With inhuman speed, he pulled away from her and turned his back to her, covering his abhorrent deformity with his hand to ensure she would see nothing.

Naturally, Lenore was confused at first. He listened as the labored breathing of a girl drowning in passion faded to a deadly silence. He turned his head just enough to watch her out of the corner of his left eye. She sat up, and gently took the fragile porcelain mask into her hands.

"Can't I see?" she whispered.

"No!" Erik hissed venomously. He extended a hand for his mask, but instead of handing it over, Lenore clutched it to her bosom.

"You've seen mine, it's only fair," she argued.

"Damn bitch," he snarled, the hand waiting for his mask dropping. "You wish to see the monster, Mademoiselle? Perhaps that was your intent all along, vile temptress!"

"I'm the tempter here? Who came on to whom, Erik?" she shouted in self-righteous anger. "You started the whole thing by taking off my clothes; I fail to see how I'm at fault here."

"If you hadn't been wearing that"-

"If you'd let me take off my own clothes, you wouldn't have seen it," she interrupted.

What she said had truth, and was rather difficult to dispute. "My mask, Mademoiselle," Erik demanded, extending his hand for it once again. For a minute, neither of them moved or made a sound. The minute dragged by, seeming an eternity to Erik.

Quite suddenly, Lenore thrust the mask into his outstretched hand with a strength he had not known she possessed. He decided to get a quick glimpse of her expression, and was surprised when her eyes trapped his in her gaze. Those eyes, devoid of emotion, were full of danger. Erik began to get the feeling that if he so much as breathed in a manner that displeased her, her temper would flare beyond her capacity to control it, which would cause an explosion of sorts. Tearing his eyes away from hers, he returned his mask to its usual place.

"I wish to leave," she stated softly, her voice flat.

"Produce my salary and you may," he replied.

"Would you give me, say, forty eight hours to get it?"

"I find it hard to believe that you could come up with enough money in that amount of time, ma petite."

"I could if I took a side job as a hooker."

Erik turned and fixed her with a deadly glare. "You will do no such thing," he informed her.

"And why not?" Lenore snapped.

"I won't allow it."

"It doesn't matter what you will or will not allow. I'm an adult woman, and what I do with my body is my own damn business," she argued. "I have no doubt it's your need to control people that drove Christine away."

* * *

Lenore never saw it coming, and it took a moment for her to realize why the right side of her face stung. His slap had not been hard; it was just enough to sting for a few moments. It was also enough to get her temper in check. _I should never have said that…I wouldn't have said it if I hadn't gone and lost my temper._

She looked up and saw Erik's expression. It came as a bit of a surprise when she realized the look on his face was one of remorse. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she cut him off.

"It was my fault," she admitted. Lenore knew it was true; she had no place to speak about Christine, or why she had left him. "I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have lost my temper." She turned her eyes away from him, for awkwardness hung in the air between them, and she found it slightly more comfortable if she wasn't looking at him.

"You should get some rest," Erik finally broke the silence, his voice somewhat strained. He swiped her negligee off the floor and handed it to her.

"Not really tired any more," she mumbled, quickly tugging the nightgown on. That little altercation had woken her up quite effectively, and she was rather certain sleep would not come until the early hours of the morning now.

* * *

Erik gently pushed her down onto the bed, laying next to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. She needed her rest and he would see to it that she had it. He would make good on his earlier offer to sing her to sleep, whether she liked it or not.

_Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation._

_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination._

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses,_

_helpless to resist the notes I write; _

_for I compose the music of the night._

_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor._

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender._

_Hearing is believing, music is deceiving, _

_hard as lightning, soft as candlelight._

_Dare you trust the music of the night?_

_Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth _

_and the truth isn't what you want to see._

_In the dark it is easy to pretend _

_that the truth is what it ought to be._

_Softly, deftly, music shall caress you._

_Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you._

_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind _

_in this darkness which you know you cannot fight;_

_the darkness of the music of the night._

_Close your eyes, start a journey to a strange new world _

_leave all thoughts of the world you knew before._

_Close your eyes and let music set you free._

_Only then can you belong to me._

_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication._

_Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation._

_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in _

_to the power of the music that I write;_

_the power of the music of the night._

Thankfully, he was spared singing the last lines, for Lenore had amiably accepted his control of her mind as he slid her into a deep sleep. After a few minutes, she began to moan, mumbling incoherently. Slipping into her dreams once again, Erik could smell the smoke, and knew the usual nightmare was once again haunting her slumber.

He was faced with a dilemma that he absolutely hated. Erik could change her dream, shift it to something more pleasant. It was difficult for him to do, and he would sleep the clock around if he did alter the dream, which would leave Lenore to her own devices for a few hours tomorrow morning. There was also the fact that he would have to stay with her through the transition between her current dream and the one he concocted, and could not leave her until her subconscious shifted her back into her own dreams. And while he was with her in the fabricated dream she would have complete control over his actions, though since she wasn't aware of that, it was rather unlikely that she would try to control him.

Aside from that, there was the question of whether or not she would want him to interfere, as she had told him never to enter her dreams again. Wondering if he had lost his sanity, he slowly began tinkering with her subconscious mind, taking great pains to make sure she shifted naturally into the dream he created.


	13. Chapter 13

Alright, this one's a bit shorter than usual, but that's because if I didn't end it where I did, it would prolly end up being something like twenty pages (or more) long. And that seemed to me like it might be a bit tedious to read, especially if you only have limited time on the computer or the internet. So here it is, have fun.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore couldn't say exactly how it happened, but she knew her dream had changed. She was no longer trapped in a pitch black night with the smell of smoke suffocating her. It was hard to decide if her new dream was an improvement over the last, due to the stench of decay that assaulted her sense of smell.

It seemed that she was now laying in a field of black, dying roses that were close to falling off their sickly green vines. The only part of the plant that seemed to flourish was the thorns, which were pricking her skin no matter how she moved. The sky above her was a stormy grayish black, and Lenore decided that she should follow her instincts and do everything in her power to get away from this place.

"You'll regret it, if you stand up now, ma chouchoute," Erik informed her. She hadn't even realized that he was sitting beside where she lay until he spoke. His black cloak made him nigh impossible to see. "It isn't always wise to listen to instinct. Besides, it's not your instinct that's telling you to run; it's the darkness in your heart."

"I'm not going to sit out here and wait for it to rain," Lenore argued, starting to sit up.

Erik reached over with one hand and pushed her back down the few inches she had risen. "Are you deaf?" he snarled with such hostility that Lenore began to tremble in fear.

"But…it's going to rain…and…I…well…it…" she stammered, not able to finish her sentence. She couldn't tell him that this place was horribly intimidating and her entire body ached to get away from here, but it turned out that she didn't have to.

"I know," Erik replied gently, conveying a deep pity for her. "The edge of Hell isn't a comfortable place for most. The devil plays upon the fear of his domain in the attempt to have you rise. If you get up, you won't be able to keep yourself from staring at his dark citadel. And if a mortal so much as catches a glimpse of Hell, they are eternally condemned, even if you live your life entirely according to God's word."

"But…what about you? You should be lying down too, shouldn't you?" she inquired curiously. After all, Erik had no right to scold her about her language and being concerned about her soul's final destination if he didn't care about his.

"It doesn't matter. I turned my back on your Lord before your great grandparents were born."

"You don't just give up faith. It's not as simple as merely turning and walking away from it; it's a slow process. I know, because I've already started down that road," Lenore whispered softly. "Before I met you, I was certain that God didn't exist and death was merely a state of non-existence. But you…what with the edge of Heaven and Hell…I just don't know what to believe anymore."

"If you don't fear eternal damnation, sit up and let your eyes show you what you should believe," Erik said dryly.

"Um, I think I'll pass on that one and take your word for it," she replied, not moving an inch. "You know, you shouldn't have looked at Hell. God forgives."

Erik's amused laughter startled her. "Forgives? You know nothing, child. He places whomever He wishes in Hell. Forgiveness is a pretty little gesture humans have invented so that they don't have to live with guilt. God is no more than a malicious child playing with toys to amuse Himself."

"That's not true," she argued. It couldn't be. All her life she'd been told that God was mercy. That He was a loving father, waiting to accept His children and pardon their transgressions. How could it be different? It was inconceivable to her that everything she had once believed was incorrect. "You haven't met God, you don't know anything."

"You haven't met God either, ma petite. So how do you know that God isn't what I say?" he pointed out.

"You and your logic. God's true nature is not about fact; it's about a feeling that every normal person seems to have. He's forgiving and He loves all His children. Even wayward ones like you."

"He loves us?" Erik chuckled. His fingers brushed the scars and burns on her lower legs. "He has a rather perverted way of showing that love, doesn't He? Quite an odd father to let His little child be mutilated in such a fashion."

"God works in"-

"Mysterious ways," he finished for her. "I've heard that one. You humans always concoct explanations for everything. After all, it wouldn't be proper to admit that even God makes mistakes, would it? So naturally His actions are merely beyond your comprehension."

"And I used to think I was bitter," Lenore retorted. She was unnerved by the way Erik seemed not to associate himself with other people. After all, he was only human…wasn't he? "Erik…what are you? How are you still alive after all these years?"

"That doesn't concern you."

Men! They never wanted to answer a woman's questions. And beyond that, the issue at hand most certainly did concern her. She was living with him, after all, and a girl had a right to know about the man she lived with. Though it wasn't something Lenore wanted to contemplate, Erik was certainly old, even if he didn't look it. Who was to say that she wouldn't wake in the morning and find him dead? _Then I'll be stuck in the underground, searching blindly and frantically for a way out so I don't die myself. Of course, this is all assuming that Erik's mortal. What if he's not? What if he's just going to live forever? Or what if he's a vampire or something like that? Well, he's probably not a vampire; he hasn't tried to suck my blood yet._ "How old are you?" Lenore inquired.

"Older than you."

"Well I kinda figured that one out for myself. How much older?"

"Many, many years older."

"What's your last name?"

"You have no need to know that."

"Where were you born?"

"Once again, that's not something you need to know."

"Why won't you tell me anything about yourself?" she asked, trying her absolute best not to let her frustration creep into her voice.

"Because I see no point in telling you things that you don't need to know," Erik replied.

"So you expect me to tell you everything about myself and let you see the real me, and then not give anything in return? That's fuc- messed up," Lenore muttered darkly. "You know, every question I asked is something I need to know. We've been living together for almost a month now, and I hardly know anything about you. All I know is that your name is Erik, you wear a mask, you compose and paint and sew and cook exceptionally well, you have a pet rat named Cristoph (which is a strange name for a rat), and you're an excellent kisser."

Erik gave a tired sigh. "First, you asked how I'm still alive. I see that as a ridiculous question; the fact is that I am alive, the how is irrelevant. My age was your next inquiry. All you need to know about that is that I far surpass you in years. I refuse to give out my last name for two reasons. I left my family, and coincidentally my family name, rather early in life and don't care to remember the name. Moreover, if I give it to you, you might in turn give it to authorities who can use it for an arrest warrant. And lastly, one's place of birth is trivial when it comes to actually knowing about a person. On a side note, Cristoph is named after Cristoph Gluck, a composer. I suppose you don't know much about classical music; it should have been quite obvious."

"One more question. Why don't you trust me?" It was more of an angry snarl than a question, but it hurt her that he didn't have any faith in her, and her way of dealing with emotional pain was to cover it with anger.

"For the very same reasons you don't trust me, ma chérie," Erik returned with a smirk.

* * *

Erik knew Lenore would protest that she most certainly did trust him, and he didn't have to wait long for it at all.

"What's that about? I trust you. I live with you, after all. If I didn't trust you, I'd have run away by now!" Lenore replied with a perfect air of indignation.

"You don't stay out of trust. You don't attempt to escape because you know you can't, mademoiselle," he pointed out.

"You're missing my point entirely. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't care how hopeless any escape attempt would be; I'd still try because I'd be desperate to get away from you," she argued.

"And you are missing my point, little one. You know better than to waste time and energy trying to escape me. Of course, that's not the only reason you stay. You stay because your sister is at risk if you try to leave, and because it would be a rather ghastly end for you if dared defy me," Erik said calmly, as if merely discussing the weather. "Do you realize that you have turned the conversation in a direction you did not intend?"

"I did not. You said you didn't trust me for the same reasons I don't trust you. But I do trust you, so you're entirely wrong anyway," she snapped.

"You do not trust me, and you turned the conversation to the matter of why you do not try to run away, which I'm quite sure you did not mean to discuss. It seems to me as though you're trying to convince yourself that you have no desire to flee captivity."

"Just what are you trying to imply?" Lenore said heatedly, pushing herself up into a sitting position.

Before she had raised herself three inches off the ground, Erik reached over with his hand and threw her back down violently. "What is it that makes you incapable of hearing and following simple instructions?" he hissed dangerously. He didn't wish to be so cruel to her, but it was for her own good.

"I don't know, probably the fact that I'm just a lowly human," she retorted. "All men are arrogant pricks and the world would be better off without them." That last bit was muttered under her breath and wouldn't have been heard by most people, but Erik's exceptional hearing gifted him with catching that nasty little opinion of hers.

"The human race would die out rather quickly then, which would be a blessing," Erik replied with a smile at the thought of that detestable species being wiped off the face of the earth.

"You're just sick and twisted, you know that? I don't"-

Lenore was gone, her subconscious having taken her to another dream, and Erik slipped into dark, dreamless sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

For some reason, the ruler thingie that makes my little page break things wasn't working today...I don't know if it's fanfic having a problem or just my computer being stupid, but that's why the page break thingies look different than usual; the ruler thing's not working so I put the breaks in with dashes.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Lenore rubbed sleep out of her eyes and yawned, stretching her arms and legs out before opening her eyes. Her lower back was killing her, but she decided to ignore it; most likely she had slept in an odd position last night and that's why it bothered her. She peered at Erik, who seemed not to be awake yet. He had neglected to take off his mask before falling asleep, and she was sorely tempted to just snatch it off and tell him that he looked uncomfortable with it on.

_No, it wouldn't be nice. He certainly wasn't nice in my dream last night, but that was just a dream. He didn't have any control over that. Besides, if I go for the mask, I'll probably find out that he's not sleeping at all and then risk his wrath for my insolence._

Lenore found her glasses on the table beside the bed and slid them onto her nose, then proceeded to look for Erik's pocket watch. According to the watch, Erik should've been up an hour ago. "Erik?" she whispered. No response. "Erik? Are you awake?" Silence met her ears and if she hadn't seen Erik's chest rising and falling, she would've believed he was dead. _Wow, he's really exhausted, isn't he?_

She carefully slipped out of the bed, making sure not to disturb him. The moment she stood, she discovered what the source of her back ache was. _Oh God no! Not now! Why do we women have to have our damn period at the most inconvenient times? Well, I guess it never really would be a convenient time for us to have our period ever, so that pretty much answers that question._

Lenore was about to go to the bathroom to take care of her problem when she realized there was nothing in that bathroom for her particular issue. Muttering a severe string of curses, she tiptoed out into the lair to ponder what to do about this problem. Cristoph, sitting on the organ bench, squeaked at her and started to run for Erik.

"Don't you dare! He's sleeping," she hissed. _Oh great, now I'm talking to the bloody rat. Well, as long as I'm at it, might as well ask. _"Hey, I need to go up into the Opera House to get something. Could you lead me?"

Cristoph stared at her for a few moments before chattering his teeth and heading for a tunnel branching off of the lair. Lenore hurriedly plucked a candle out of one of the candelabras and chased off after the black rat.

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"We told Erik it was today," Ember muttered as she moved about Lenore's room, trying to pack her sister's things. "We even got a note thanking us for that "interesting bit of information", but does he bother to bring her up to help?"

"No, he doesn't," Rosalyn answered. "Maybe if you had put in the note that we wanted her help, he would have. Probably."

"Men," Ember huffed.

"Yes. Men," Rosalyn agreed.

The two women turned abruptly at the sound of something scraping along the floor.

"Good God, how does he move this bloody thing?" Lenore's voice echoed from behind the full length mirror, which was opened just a crack. A black rat squeezed through the crack with a squeak, then looked back at the mirror, clearly waiting for Lenore to wriggle through the tiny crevice as well. "Stop looking at me like that; you're a rat, I'm a human. Normal humans can't fit through cracks that small. Betcha even Erik wouldn't make it through that. And if he somehow did, I would be distinctly impressed and demand to know how he managed it."

Ember stifled a giggle as she went over to the mirror and aided her sister in sliding the glass open. "How are you this fine morning, sister?"

"A bit less innocent than you used to be perhaps?" Rosalyn inquired.

"Sadly, no," Lenore replied sarcastically, stepping through into the room. "All that happened last night was a bit of kissing and fondling."

"Wow, he's really good at controlling himself then, isn't he?" Ember said, truly impressed. What man could resist a woman in a negligee?

"No, it just so happened that his mask got tangled in the blankets and came off, so he pulled away before I could see him. I didn't want to give him the mask back, and he got angry," Lenore recounted casually, as if this happened to her every day. "Then he told me to get some rest and sang me to sleep."

"Men excel at ruining perfectly laid plans," Ember sighed. "So, have you come to help us pack up your room?"

"Why are you packing up my room?" Lenore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Erik didn't tell you?" Rosalyn asked.

"There're obviously some kinks in the communication system," Lenore muttered. "What's going on that I wasn't informed of?"

"We've got a cast here, except for the diva. She's coming in tonight. The orchestra's all here too, and we're going to start performing the weekend after next," Ember explained.

"And since you're in the diva's suite…" Rosalyn trailed off.

"Gotta move my stuff out. Got it," Lenore finished. "So Erik knew about this?"

"Yeah, we left a note where he'd be sure to find it. It was addressed to both of you," Rosalyn informed her.

"Men!" Lenore hissed.

"Men!" Ember and Rosalyn chorused in unison.

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Lenore followed Cristoph through the tunnel, making sure she didn't lose sight of him while balancing her bags. She was bringing a lot back to the lair with her, including tampons, painkillers, a vast amount of chocolate, and her laptop. Granted, her laptop wouldn't last long on the battery, but she could always take it up and recharge it when necessary. Or, if it wasn't acceptable for her to go aboveground, she could have Erik take it up for her and Ember would recharge it.

Lenore was right on Cristoph's tail when they finally reached the lair. She put her bags down right next to the tunnel mouth because she didn't want to risk dropping something and making too much noise, fully expecting Erik to still be asleep. After all, she'd been gone for only an hour.

"You rotten, stupid little girl!" Erik hissed, making Lenore jump in surprise and gasp for breath. He was standing next to the gondola, apparently in the process of leaving, for he wore his cloak.

"What did I do now?" she asked once she managed to calm herself down.

"You must have quite a short memory," Erik snapped. "You went aboveground, did you not?"

"Yes…" Lenore admitted.

"And I have forbidden that, have I not?"

"Um, technically you never said I couldn't…" she pointed out. Perhaps logic would be on her side for once.

"You knew it was not allowed, mademoiselle," he snarled back.

"But you never specifically said"-

"What brought on this little excursion?" Erik interrupted in a deadly soft voice.

"I…needed something, that's all."

"What did you need?"

"I'd rather not tell you," Lenore replied as her cheeks tinged pink.

"What could you possibly need that couldn't wait another hour?"

"None of your business, okay? Just drop it," she begged.

It happened so quick that Lenore believed he had merely disappeared from one spot and appeared in another. Only a moment before, he had been at the gondola across the lair from her, then suddenly he stood right in front of her with the bags she'd brought back in his hands. Erik began rifling through one of the bags' contents.

"Stop that! Leave my stuff alone!" Lenore protested, trying to snatch her things back. Erik held her off with one hand and managed to continue rifling through the bags with his other.

"A few books, some pointless knickknacks, and a bag of chocolate. And these things couldn't wait?" he muttered, having finished inspecting the first bag. "I quite clearly remember telling you that chocolate is unacceptable in vast quantities such as this. I'm afraid I'll have to confiscate it."

"Take that away from me, and I swear to God you'll be dead by the end of the day," Lenore snarled. He could not take away her chocolate! Not during her period, at least. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Alright, you may not be dead, but I most certainly will try my utmost best to kill you."

"Then I have nothing to fear," he responded as he began pawing through a bag with clothing.

"Stop! Haven't you ever heard of a right to privacy?" she grumbled, her face turning redder with every passing moment that drew him closer to the bag with her tampons in it. "I just brought some stuff from my room down. It seemed Ember and Rosalyn were packing my things away for a particular reason." Had his eyes shifted nervously away from hers at her last comment, or had it merely been the lighting? "When were you planning to tell me about that note?"

"You didn't need to know," Erik replied, opening the bag with her laptop and shaking his head at what he considered a ridiculous and certainly frivolous item to bring down.

"Oh really? It's only my building, Erik," she snapped.

"I don't recall seeing you on the building site when the project was started," Erik countered. "I believe I would have remembered if a woman was wandering around my construction site."

"Just because you built it doesn't mean it's yours. You never legally owned the building, and you never will."

"You've quite a temper today," he said absently.

Lenore had had enough. Let him do what he wanted. "I'll be in the bedroom, so whenever you're done going through my things, just bring them in," she snarled, storming past him.

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About an hour after the scene with Lenore, Erik heard the familiar chime that let him know he had a visitor. Poking his head into the bedroom, he found Lenore reading one of her books and nibbling on a chocolate bar.

"I'm leaving for a bit, ma chérie," he simply said. No need to provoke her, especially considering her emotional state during this time of the month.

"Going off to kill people again, darling?" Lenore said, making sure to put a mocking tone on the word 'darling'.

"Naturally. I just can't help myself, you know. It's a favorite pastime of mine," Erik replied. _Damn. I just invited her to snap at me again._

"Of course. Doesn't everyone enjoy going out and murdering innocent people who've probably done nothing to deserve death?" she growled.

"So glad you see it my way," he retorted curtly before whipping around and stalking towards the tunnels, his cloak swirling furiously behind him.

_That child is far too cheeky_, he thought later as he wandered through the subterranean corridors to find the fool who had the audacity to go traipsing about dark underground passageways. Erik couldn't help but smile, for he rather enjoyed Lenore's sassy nature. _Quite an improvement over Christine, really. I might kill Lenore if I had to listen to one more woman whine and beg to be allowed to leave._

_That's not quite the truth, as I'm sure you know_, a small part of him challenged smugly. _You only like her sauciness because it keeps her back up, and her competitive nature won't let her even think of leaving until she gets the better of you. And she will get the better of you one day; then she'll leave you, just as Christine did. Lenore will run as fast as she can into the arms of that boy._

"Erik?" Ember's voice echoed off the walls. "Oh, where the bleeding hell is that man? Honestly, you'd think he'd know the moment I set foot down here. It can't possibly take him too long to find me, either; after all, he's the bloody Opera Ghost, he knows everything that goes on in the bloody Opera House!"

With a smirk, Erik slipped through the tunnels, coming out behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. His other hand quickly encircled her throat.

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Ember instinctively began to struggle. She tried to jam her elbow into her attacker's solar plexus, but failed because his grip was so tight that she could barely move her arm. Her next tactic was to bring up her legs and then swing her weight forward in an attempt to throw the assailant over her head.

_I took self-defense classes; why the bloody hell isn't this working? …Oh shit, it's Erik._

"Where've you been? I was looking all over down here," she snarled as she ceased her struggle.

"_Apparently, you were merely looking for a fight, mademoiselle_," Erik replied, releasing her. "_It's rather unusual to attack someone if you're looking for them, after all._"

"Who the bleeding hell jumps a friend in the dark?" Ember snapped back, turning to glare at him through the darkness.

"I wasn't aware we were friends."

"Of course we are, I took you clothes shopping," Ember pointed out.

"And exactly how does that make us friends?"

"Well, as a male, it may be difficult for you to understand this," Ember began, talking as though she were addressing a small, rather dimwitted child. "When women go shopping with each other, it's because they are friends. We don't go shopping with people we dislike; the whole point of shopping, especially where clothes are concerned, is to make sure your friends look their best. And when we women take a man shopping, it's for one of two reasons. A, he's a friend. B, he's our boyfriend. Seeing as how B would be a bit extreme of a claim for me to make, we'll go with A. I am sorry about the poor quality of the breeches" (her eyes flickered down briefly, even though she couldn't quite see him in the darkness; he was a vague shadow to her eyes) "but I did try to make absolutely sure you looked your best."

"Believe whatever you wish; I don't have 'friends', I merely know people who tolerate me," Erik said dismissively.

"Oh? And is that how you see Lenore? As someone who 'tolerates' you?" she challenged.

"The conversation was about our relationship, such as it is, and did not include your sister."

"You're the one who brought other people into the conversation by saying there are people who 'tolerate' you," Ember responded. "Anyway, the reason I came down here is that I just got a call from my mom, who is landing at the Charles de Gaulle airport as we speak."

"How utterly and completely dull," Erik remarked dryly. "Thank you for sharing that pointless bit of information. Can you find the way out on your own, or do you need my assistance?"

"Okay, you fail to understand the situation here. This is my mom. She flew all the way here from America, just to come yell at Lenore for not calling her. Mom's gonna think Lenore's been kidnapped, raped, and/or murdered if she doesn't see Lenore the moment she sets foot in this building. And if she thinks any of those things, which she will, then she'll call the cops and get a search started."

"And how is that my concern? Lenore has brought some of her things down, so it looks suspiciously like she just ran off. Perhaps she's taking a holiday," he said, his tone giving the implication that he most certainly didn't know where she was or what she was doing.

_So if the police do suspect that someone's holding her hostage under the Opera House, and they manage to find and arrest him, he's going to play dumb. Not that the police would suspect that anyway, unless Rosalyn or I told them…and we'd need proof we don't have. Every letter he sends us disappears the day after we read it._

"Still, it would be better if you just let Lenore visit with Mom, or else things are gonna get really…ugly," Ember insisted. Erik grabbed her wrist and began pulling her through the underground, his grip agonizingly tight. "Excuse me! You're cutting off my circulation!"

"Yes, I am. Be thankful I'm not cutting off your head for trespassing." After a moment, Ember distinctly heard him mutter, "There must be something direly wrong with this family; no one else has ever dared argue with me."

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Erik picked up his pace when he heard Lenore's shouts a few tunnels away from the lair. Ember stumbled along behind him, muttering bitterly about the increase in speed. _What could possibly be going on? Could the siren have dragged herself aground to devour Lenore?_

Erik stopped dead in the edge of the lair, his eyes coming to rest on the familiar man standing a few feet away from Lenore, who was prepared to throw a small statue at the man. The man's dark eyes stayed on the statue and he ran a hand through his dark hair as he tried to reassure Lenore that he was an acquaintance of Erik and she had nothing to fear. Of course, this was all in vain, for these reassurances were spoken in French. It was all Erik could do to keep himself from laughing at the whole scenario.

"Erik! I thought you were killing people, not sending them after me!" Lenore screeched, glancing over at him before returning her eyes to the man, who had taken a step closer to her.

"Darius is an acquaintance of mine, mademoiselle, and visits me every few years or so," Erik explained, pulling Ember into the lair as he approached the two of them.

"Nice to see you too, sis," Ember piped up, just having to complain about the fact that her sister hadn't noticed her yet.

"Forgive me for being a bit preoccupied," Lenore snapped back. "What are you doing down here? Shouldn't you be getting ready for the diva or whatever?"

"Mom's coming. She's at the airport, and as soon as she gets a cab, she'll be here," Ember informed her sister.

"Oh shi"- Lenore began. She grimaced at not being able to say what she wanted before continuing. "I should've known she'd have a fit if I didn't call her every damn day. So, how long am I allowed to be aboveground? As long as it takes to get rid of her?"

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Lenore stalked around the manager's office, occasionally pausing to kick one of the desks in her irritation. "The nerve of that man!" she snapped for the hundredth time.

"Well, it could be worse," Rosalyn said.

"How does it get any worse than this?" Lenore inquired shrilly. "Ember's stuck down there all day, so I have to come up with an excuse for Mom as to where she is. And I have to be in this room, alone, at midnight or else she's dead."

"He could have decided not to let you see your mom at all, which would lead to police involvement, which is definitely bad for business," Rosalyn responded calmly.

"Let's not forget that, if the police go down there, he'd throw me into some dark crevice where no one would ever find me," Lenore added.

"I was trying to be somewhat positive."

"Why would you ever want to be positive? All those damn idiots that are optimistic don't understand the beauty of pessimism. Optimists hope for the best, try to see the good in everything, which only sets them up for a lifetime of disappointments. Pessimists, on the other hand, expect everything to go terribly wrong. Then when something goes even the slightest bit right, it's cause for celebration and happiness."

"That's a very…interesting and wise outlook," Rosalyn remarked.

"I wouldn't see it any other way," Lenore said, sounding indignant at the thought that she might.

"So, how are you going to get your mom to leave by midnight?" Apparently, Rosalyn wanted to change the subject.

"No idea. Got any suggestions?"

"Well…um…you could…no, that won't work…maybe…"

"There's no way to get rid of her until she's ready to leave," Lenore grumbled.

"You might wanna head down to the lobby; she should be here in a minute or so," Rosalyn proposed after a few moments' silence. "You know how upset she'll be if she has to hunt you down."

Lenore stomped through the corridors, mumbling darkly and thinking up elaborate schemes to get rid of her mother, all of which would never work. She entered the main lobby and saw the door swinging open with the incensed force of an angry mother.

"LENORE PARKER!" her mother yelled, stepping into the entrance hall. Mrs. Parker was an inch shorter than Lenore, with dark hair similar to Ember's and eyes a shade lighter than Lenore's bright blue.

"Hi Mom," Lenore said, faking a cheerful smile.

"What's wrong with you? Don't you know how to pick up a phone? I've tried to get in touch with you for almost a month. You can't always be in the shower or asleep; it's far too coincidental! You aren't involved in drugs, are you?" Mrs. Parker spat out in one breath. "Where's Ember?"

"Oh, well, she's…out."

"Out?"

"Yeah. See, she had a date with this guy Patrick today, and she felt it would be rude to cancel at the last minute," Lenore lied.

"So where is she?" Mrs. Parker snapped, fearing to hear that Ember was out getting drunk or high.

"The Louvre. Don't worry, she'll be fine. I've met Patrick; he's really nice."

"You're avoiding the issue. Why haven't you called?"

"Well, I've been busy. A lot of…insurance meetings."

"You aren't meeting people for insurance every night at eight!" Mrs. Parker argued. "It's okay if you've gotten involved with drugs. We'll get you some help. There's no shame in it, no shame at all."

"I'm not a druggie," Lenore sighed. "I've just been busy."

"Busy with what?"

"Well…there's this guy…" Lenore began.

"What's his name?" her mom asked eagerly, excited at the prospect of her daughter finally having found someone.

"Erik. Anyway, I've just been really busy, and"-

"Well, what's he like?"

"He's like…Erik, I don't know."

"Where does he live?"

"Close by," Lenore answered vaguely. "Anyway"-

"How old is he?"

"I don't really know, but he's older than me."

"What does he look like?"

"Mom! That's not what we were discussing," Lenore said, exasperated.

"Right. So, why don't you pick up the phone or call back?"

Lenore mentally hit herself. _Why did I bring the conversation back to this? I can't possibly give her any lie she'll believe. And she definitely won't like the truth. Oh well, guess there's nothing else to tell her._ "Well, I don't pick up the phone because I live with Erik. And he doesn't have a phone, so I can't call back," Lenore explained.

"You're living with him?" Her mother practically exploded. "What have I told you? You don't ever move in with a man unless you're married! We need to get you to a church and have a talk with a pastor right away!"

"Mom! We're not sleeping together or anything like that. He's a perfect gentleman! I mean, yes, we do share the same bed because he only has the one, but we're both fully clothed in that bed, and if I asked him to sleep somewhere else, I'm sure he would. Not that I would; it's so cold in that room! Well, the whole place is cold, really, but that's beside the point…"

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Ember sat staring out across the lake. It had been a boring day. Most of it was spent listening to Erik and Darius converse in French, which she didn't understand at all. Then when Darius had left, Erik had barely said a word to her of his own accord. She had to pry conversation out of him, and it was thoroughly frustrating and exhausting. It turned out that Darius brought horses to the Opera House for Erik every few years or so, and it seemed that Erik was due for two young, fresh horses, which explained Darius' sudden visit. Of course, Ember had to practically use a crowbar to get that much out of Erik. Any inquiries as to Erik's true age or how he was still alive led to an awesome silence that was broken only by the occasional skittering around of Cristoph.

After dinner, Erik had told her that she was permitted to sit in the lair with him, provided she stayed in one place and touched nothing. So she had spent the last five hours or so sitting on the cold stone floor, listening to Erik play what seemed to be an endless round of Mozart's concertos, and staring out across the lake.

Suddenly the music stopped; the silence was almost deafening. Ember turned to see what had prompted Erik to quit playing and saw him retrieving his pocket watch from the table next to the organ.

"It seems it's time to head up and see what Fate has in store for you, mademoiselle," he said carelessly.

"Aw, do we have to? We were having such a wonderful conversation," Ember teased. "We're just such close friends; I'd hate to have to cut this short."

"It is truly regretful," Erik played along. "But we promised Lenore to be in the office at midnight, and I'd feel absolutely dreadful if I broke my word and made your sister worry over nothing."

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"Mom, go get some sleep!" Lenore practically begged. Her mother had followed her into the manager's office, and there were precious few minutes left until midnight.

"I want to know where Ember is. The Louvre can't possibly be open this late," Mrs. Parker replied.

"Like I said, they probably went to a movie or something like that. And that's why you can't get a hold of her on her cell, cuz you have to turn those off in the theater," Lenore fibbed. She felt bad about lying to her mother, but there was nothing else to do. "She'll come in when she's ready; she's a big girl now, she can take care of herself. Just please go to bed."

"Well you should be in bed too. Where's that man you're living with? Does he expect you to go out in the middle of the night to get to his house? Doesn't he realize that a young girl like you has a higher probability of being mugged, raped, kidnapped, or murdered? Not to mention that, because of your legs, you can't protect yourself well from the scoundrels out there."

"I'm sure that the thought that I'm not good at protecting myself from kidnappers, thieves, and murderers has crossed his mind," Lenore mumbled. After all, Erik certainly knew about kidnapping, larceny, and murder.

"Then where is he? And doesn't he know today is your birthday? Why didn't he take you to dinner or something?" Mrs. Parker complained. Now that she knew that Lenore was living with the man, she was determined to find as many faults with him as possible.

A rap on the door spared Lenore from having to make more excuses. Wondering who in the world would be knocking on the managers' office door at this time of night, Lenore walked over as quietly as possible and opened the door just a crack. She didn't want the intruder to think they could come in the office; she only had about forty seconds to get rid of her mother as it was.

"Good evening, ma chérie," Erik said as he pushed the door open and walked into the office as though he belonged there. Ember was right behind him.

"Uh, Erik, this is my mom. Mom, this is Erik." In her mind, Lenore was giving Erik a severe tongue-lashing for having revealed himself to her mother. _At least he came in through the door instead of through the wall…_

"Good evening, Madam, a pleasure to meet you," Erik greeted her mother, planting a quick kiss on the back of Mrs. Parker's hand.

"Oh, the same to you," Mrs. Parker said, putting on a very obviously false smile. "I thought you would have come by earlier to take Lenore out to dinner; it is her birthday, after all."

"When Ember informed us that you were coming in, I cancelled my reservations; I didn't want to keep your daughter from you."

"Well, that was very nice of you," Mrs. Parker replied, a bit of the falsity leaving her smile. It seemed Erik had managed to redeem himself slightly in her mother's eyes. She quickly turned her attention to Ember. "Where were you? Out this late with a boy, it's entirely unacceptable."

"I couldn't agree with you more, Madam," Erik muttered.

"It's not all that late, and I can take care of myself," Ember said. "Besides, Patrick's not that kind of guy."

"You should've been here. It's your sister's birthday, and birthdays are a time for family, not boyfriends," Mrs. Parker complained. Then she realized what she had just said and studiously avoided looking at Erik.

"Well, it seems during the introductions, the last few minutes of your birthday slipped away, ma petit," Erik remarked to Lenore, choosing to ignore Mrs. Parker's last comment. "I suppose it wouldn't be proper to wish you many happy returns on your birthday, seeing as how I missed it. Would it be acceptable to still give you your present?"

"I don't see why not…" Lenore trailed off. _What is he going to give me? Maybe a kiss…gee, Mom'll love that…_

Erik pulled a small case out of his cloak, and opened it to reveal a pendant with a heart charm that was comprised of sixteen diamonds, with a black pearl dangling from the point of the heart. "Pearls are the birthstone for June, if I remember correctly," Erik commented as Lenore took the case.

"This is…gorgeous," Lenore muttered, staring at the necklace in awe.

"I suppose," Erik sighed. "Though I rather feel it should have more diamonds considering the price."

"How much did you spend on this?"

Erik hesitated a moment, making a few quick conversions. "Almost four hundred American dollars," he replied casually.

"F-f-f-f-four hundred?" Lenore stammered. "I can't accept this! It's too expensive."

"Really? I believe it's a bit cheap, considering the fact that I've missed twenty birthdays prior to this one." Erik reached out a hand for the case. "If you don't want it, though, I suppose I could return it. Perhaps you'd like to go along this time, and pick out the gift yourself?"

"I'm not saying that I don't want it. I just feel like…well, no one's ever spent this much on me for one present," Lenore explained.

"It is a bit too expensive to accept as a birthday gift," Mrs. Parker said, giving Lenore a sharp glare. "It's probably best if that's saved for an anniversary or something."

"I don't know, I think it's kinda nice. And thoughtful. Not many guys would get you a birthday present that beautiful or expensive," Ember argued.

"I think it would be wise to return it," Mrs. Parker declared sharply.

For Lenore, that decided it. She took the necklace from its velvet cushion and put it on.

"It suits you," Erik complimented her, lifting her chin with a finger and giving her a quick kiss on the lips.

Lenore turned a few shades of red. _Not in front of my mom_, she thought. _Not that I don't want you to kiss me, but…just not in front of Mom. _"I don't know how often I'll get to wear it," she mumbled, trying to get her blush under control.

"Do you need a particular occasion?" Erik inquired.

"Yeah, it should be saved for special things, like formal occasions."

"I see no reason why you can't wear it every day."

"You know, we don't really need to discuss this right now," Lenore pointed out. "Shouldn't we be going now?"

"Quite right, ma chérie. A pleasure meeting you, Madam Parker. Good night, Mademoiselle Parker." Erik took Lenore's arm in his own and led her swiftly out of the office.


	15. Chapter 15

The fanfiction ruler thingie still hates me, it would seem...or maybe my computer just has a problem working with the ruler...who knows?

This one's kinda short, but where I stopped just seemed like a perfect chapter end to me, so…

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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The moment the door closed behind Erik and Lenore, Mrs. Parker rounded on Ember.

"What do you know about him?" she demanded.

"Well…" Ember said, pausing to think.

"What does he do for a living?"

"He's in the insurance business," Ember answered. It wasn't entirely a lie. After all, paying his salary kept them safe from his wrath, and so it was like paying him for insurance. "That's how Lenore met him; insurance meetings."

"They've had far too many meetings. And she's living with him! Why didn't you talk her out of that? She's sleeping with him, isn't she?" Mrs. Parker grumbled.

"Well, that depends on what you mean by sleeping with him, cuz they share the same bed, but they're not having sex," Ember replied.

"How do you know? You don't," Mrs. Parker argued. "I'll have to keep dropping subtle hints for her to move back in here, with you and Rosalyn, and just hope that she comes to her senses. He seems far too old for her; how old is he?"

"I'm not exactly sure…" Ember mumbled. _This is going to be a disaster…hell, it already is a disaster. At this rate, it'll be a catastrophe within the half hour._

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"You just had to kiss me in front of Mom, didn't you," Lenore griped as Erik led her through the dark underground.

"It seemed she was under the impression that we're lovers; I thought a kiss might help your fabrication," Erik replied as though that should have been glaringly obvious.

"My mom thinks it's terribly improper to kiss in front of other people, unless you're married."

"That's a bit old-fashioned," he remarked. After all, he certainly didn't care what her mother thought. In his opinion, the woman was overbearingly controlling of her daughter. He had stood by and watched Lenore be treated like a child when he had given her the necklace. Madam Parker had tried her absolute best to tell Lenore what to do with the gift, and it had actually surprised Erik when Lenore decided to go against her mother's wishes.

_It seems that her mother is the source of Lenore's childishness. Madam Parker seems unwilling to see her daughter as an adult woman capable of making her own decisions. She believes she must shelter and protect Lenore from all harm, but she doesn't realize the damage she is doing to her daughter in the process. That's why the trauma of her accident still affects her; she has fallen down, and rather than let Lenore pick herself up, Madam Parker keeps her daughter where she is so that she'll not fall again. Lenore is left in the darkness, trying to figure out how to pick herself back up and getting pushed back down whenever she makes any progress. If it continues, Lenore will end up bitter and heartless…much like me._

"Are you even listening to me?" Lenore snapped, breaking into his thoughts.

"No," Erik said truthfully.

"I was asking what time tomorrow you plan to take me back up. My mom's an early riser, but she knows I'm not, so she won't expect me to be awake until nine and at the Opera House by ten," Lenore informed him.

"I don't recall giving you permission to be aboveground tomorrow," he responded.

"What? But my mom"-

"Your mother is a tyrannical shrew, and if you spend the rest of your life doing exactly what she wishes, you'll be entirely unable to take care of yourself when she dies," Erik declared, barely able to keep a snarl from his voice. How blind would Lenore have to be to realize her mother had no intention of letting her grow up and care for herself?

"That wasn't very nice of you to say," Lenore commented. Odd that she didn't deny his statement completely. Perhaps she knew the truth about her mother but didn't care to admit it, as though admitting it would somehow make it more real than it already was.

"The truth isn't always pleasant." Of course, that ended the conversation and kept things relatively silent except for Lenore's footsteps (Didn't that girl know how to walk quietly?) until they reached the gondola.

"Thank you," Lenore whispered. "For the necklace, I mean. I didn't really thank you before, so I thought I should now…"

"You're welcome," he replied. It was astoundingly polite of her to thank him, and something he certainly hadn't expected. Lenore hardly ever thanked him for anything he did for her.

"You didn't have to spend all that money, though. It's just my birthday," she mumbled, blushing a bit.

_Good God, did I manage to embarrass her with a simple "you're welcome"?_ "I didn't spend that much. Compared to my financial state, at least," Erik informed her as he helped her into the gondola. "Not to mention the fact that my salary comes due at the end of this week."

"It does? No way, it can't possibly have been that long," Lenore contradicted.

"This coming weekend will be the first weekend of July, ma chouchoute, and as such means that the month of June has passed. It was the first week of June when I made you aware how well I am paid to make certain no little accidents befall the management, cast, and crew," he explained as he poled the gondola out onto the dark lake.

"Gee, maybe a better birthday gift would have been to ask for only half of your salary," Lenore muttered.

"I think not. You do realize that the pearl is of triple 'a' grade?" Erik inquired.

"And that grade means what?"

"That means it has the highest luster, is perfectly round in shape, and has a smooth surface."

"In other words, this is the best grade a pearl can have. And you bought one and gave it to me? What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I might amuse myself by giving it to you for your birthday and asking for it back in the morning so I could return it for the money," Erik replied sarcastically. "It occurred to me that you are a woman who decided to spend her money on a building instead of buying herself valuable jewelry, and that you just might appreciate owning a necklace fitting for a young lady of your age."

"Well, it is nice to have"- she began to admit. It seemed she realized all too quickly that she was agreeing with him. "The point is I'll probably damage it. Get it all scratched up and stuff. I don't have any idea how to take good care of it."

"If you damage it badly, I'll get you another," Erik offered before he could stop himself. _Do not lose your mind, Erik. The last thing you need is to have her realizing how deeply you are beginning to care for her. You know that no woman will ever want to have a romantic relationship with you. Only a fool sets themselves up for a disappointment that they know is inevitable._

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Lenore didn't know what to say to that last comment. _You idiot! He's only being polite, he doesn't like you in a romantic sense. Why do you have to assume that any time a guy says something nice to you that he's attracted to you? At least you have enough intelligence to keep these assumptions to yourself…_

_What if he isn't just being polite? What if he really does like me? Maybe Erik's attracted to me; I mean, it could happen…couldn't it? Just because no one's ever shown an interest in me before doesn't mean it's entirely impossible that no one ever will._

_Why are you doing this to yourself? Stop being optimistic for a minute and realize the truth! Don't you know that your high hopes will be shattered and end in bitter disappointment? Why bother putting yourself through that? Keep your mind clear; Erik only puts up with you because you amuse him. And when you can finally pay his salary, this will all end. Just think of this whole thing as a friendly relationship at best and don't make it complicated. You don't want things to become awkward because you had to go and get yourself emotionally attached to someone who thinks of you as a mere amusement for idle hours._

Lenore yawned, thoroughly exhausted by the day's events, not to mention the fact that she was up late. Erik had gotten her used to being in bed around nine and then getting up at seven. _I'm three hours late for bed; I hope Erik will let me sleep in tomorrow, since it wasn't really my fault that I was up so late tonight._ As soon as the gondola came to a halt in the lair, Lenore clambered out, far too tired to wait for Erik to get out first and assist her. She then proceeded to stagger into the bedroom and collapse on the bed, asleep the moment she hit the soft mattress.

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Erik followed her into the bedroom, chuckling softly when she half-collapsed onto the bed. "Poor child," he commiserated softly. Lenore had had a busy day today, far too tiring for her. He busied himself with pulling her jeans off, then her shirt. She was obviously beyond exhausted, for she didn't even stir.

Laying down in the bed with her, Erik smiled. She looked so wonderfully peaceful and happy when she was asleep. His long, slender fingers caressed her face and slid into her hair, as they had on numerous other occasions. Lenore wasn't a light sleeper, and he knew he could easily pet her to his heart's content without her awakening.

Of course, she didn't know that Erik only slept every third night. For some reason, he didn't seem to sleep as much as normal people did. Not that he minded; there was far too much to get done without wasting time on sleep. Paintings that waited to be brought into existence, symphonies that were dying to be written. Yes, far too much to do to waste time sleeping. _Is that so? Then why do you waste time every night watching her sleep and having your fingertips memorize every inch of her face? Do you know how she'd feel if she found out that you stroke her every night as if she were some sort of domesticated animal?_

Erik ignored his internal monologue, mainly because he just didn't want to listen to it right now. Moreover, he had had a thought that was undeniably alluring. Slowly, he reached up and removed the mask that covered the right side of his face. Hurriedly depositing the mask on the bedside table, he moved slightly closer to Lenore's slumbering form. Holding his breath and moving at the pace of a snail, Erik eventually rested the deformed half of his face against her perfect skin.

He was robbed of words and could not begin to describe the pure bliss that trembled in every fiber of his being. It was paradisiacal; she did not flinch in fear, she did not recoil in revulsion. Granted, Lenore wasn't awake and didn't know that the detested, disfigured demon disobeyed the laws of the natural order of the world, didn't know that she had given him a priceless gift of the simplest pleasure man had ever known. Humans always took the simplest things for granted; for example, the sense of touch. Few understood as he did how precious a simple caress could be, and now he wished Lenore to be there perpetually so that he may steal touches from her as she slept.

"Forgive me," Erik breathed. For he knew now that he would never let her go. He wanted to keep her with him always, and nothing would be able to stand in his way now that he desired it so. There would be murders, that was certain, and eventually someone she cared for was bound to meet a horrible end at his hands.

_I can only hope that you will find it in your heart to forgive me my sins, to find a way to love the monstrous criminal I will become who will kill to keep you as though you are nothing more than an expensive collectible for my shelf. I will have your love; whether you give it freely or I take it by force no longer matters to me. Forgive me, if you can, my poor, sweet, broken, beautiful porcelain doll._


	16. Chapter 16

This one's a bit short as well…sorry about that…but once again, it just seemed like the perfect place to end the chapter. And the ruler thing's still not working...Is anyone else having a problem with it, or is it just my computer having an issue?

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Lenore closed her book and sighed. It wasn't that the book was boring, it was just long. Robert Jordan managed to pack so much information and detail into each of his books that it was hard to take it all in. Unless, of course, you had nothing else to do and no one to talk to. Which was how Lenore felt.

She didn't know why, but Erik had spent the past week studiously ignoring her whenever he could. Ever since returning to the lair the night after visiting her mother, he had avoided her like the plague. He even went so far as to bring her meals to her and leave her to eat alone. Lenore spent countless hours rehashing their last conversation, which was about the necklace he'd given her, but she could never produce anything that might have angered him so badly that he wouldn't even look at her for two seconds.

_I keep telling you that it's not something you said. Think about what he said; maybe he likes you, didn't know how to tell you, let it slip in that conversation, and is avoiding you because he's afraid you won't share his feelings. I mean, it's worth thinking about. Not everything has to be about you and your actions…_

"Oh, shut up," Lenore mumbled to that rather bothersome voice inside her head. _This is just the most glorious Sunday I've ever experienced. Dead silence, a long book that I can't concentrate on, and a rat that seems to find me more companionable than Erik._ Cristoph oddly preferred her company to Erik's, currently. Lenore felt very much the same; Cristoph's company was, at present, more enjoyable than Erik's. "You men are difficult," she muttered at the rat, who looked up at her reproachfully. "Well, it's true. I don't understand males at all."

Lenore set the book down on the bedside table, sighing tiredly. Laying in bed with a full stomach (she'd just had dinner about an hour ago) and reading a book, even if she couldn't concentrate on it, was a sure way to put herself to sleep. Not that it really mattered, because she didn't have anything else to do tonight.

Sliding out of bed, Lenore crept to the doorway, deciding to poke her head out into the lair and see if she couldn't find out what Erik had occupied himself with. Scanning the lair, Lenore immediately realized that he wasn't at his organ writing music, he wasn't in the kitchen area (not that she'd really expected him to be there anyway), and he wasn't in the art studio niche.

"Well where the bloody hell is he?" she grumbled, thoroughly perturbed that he wasn't within her sight. Then she noticed the gondola was missing. "That damn bastard! He went out and left me here, without so much as a parting remark to let me know I was alone down here."

_He's not here…he won't know if you sneak out for a bit. Go out to the artsy room, draw a bit, and then sneak back in. He'd never know. And if he found out…well…serves him right for leaving you alone like this. _With a devilish grin, Lenore crept out to the studio, and settled herself at the table, grabbing the closest piece of parchment.

Her hand was halfway to the charcoal pencil on the table when she noticed small protuberances on the parchment, as though the other side had been drawn on already. Curiosity seized her and she turned the parchment over. A sketch of her naked form, hands grabbing at her, pulling her down into a well of darkness, covered the paper.

Lenore quickly replaced the parchment to its former position. _Don't paint this, Erik. Don't let this come into the world._ The first painting he had made of her was different from this one. The first had been full of tender, pure love. But this sketch overflowed with burning, violent lasciviousness, and it frightened her so wonderfully that her body quivered of its own accord.

"Precisely what do you think you are doing?" she heard Erik's voice hiss in her ear.

_I should have heard him come in, but…_ "I wanted to draw," she answered meekly, failing to keep her voice from trembling.

"I thought you knew you weren't to leave the bedroom without my permission," he snarled as he spun her to face him.

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The moment he saw her face, Erik lost his false temper. He had been trying so hard to isolate his feelings and purge his body of his lust for her, and she ruined it with a single look. Those eyes, wide, vulnerable, and frightened. Those full lips, on the verge of spluttering out some nonsensical reason for her disobedience.

Erik pulled her body tightly against his, his lips hungrily devouring her own. Lenore grew heavy in his arms and he knew that he had drowned her in a deep sea of passion to the point where she couldn't even support herself. He picked her up and set her on the desk, not even breaking contact in the process. Her arms, paralyzed with shock when he initiated the kiss, came to themselves and wrapped around him, her hands beginning to slide up and down his back as she pushed herself tighter against him, deepening the kiss. It seemed as if their lips were playing a beautiful melody, and when her tongue tentatively suggested adding a harmony, Erik eagerly complied, sliding his own tongue into her welcoming mouth. His hands hopelessly entangled themselves in those beautiful locks of hers that seemed golden in the candlelight and milk chocolate in the shadows.

Just as Erik was about to lay her down on the desk (the hell with ruining his sketches), someone cleared their throat behind him. Ripping himself from Lenore, he whirled around to glare at the intruder. It came as no surprise that Darius was standing there; after all, Darius was the only other living person who knew how to get to Erik's lair.

"Forgive my interruption," Darius said in a heavy accent, obviously somewhat embarrassed at walking in on the two of them. Which was quite understandable when Lenore gave a squeak; Erik turned just in time to see her sliding her skirt down over her legs. How he had failed to realize just how indecently high her skirt had slid was beyond him. "Madam Parker has become quite distraught, having not seen her daughter for a full week."

"Is that supposed to concern me? If you like, tell Madam Parker that her daughter is far too busy being ravished to visit with her," Erik replied.

"Don't you dare!" Lenore snapped at Darius. "We most certainly are not doing anything of a ravishing nature!"

"Perhaps it's not my place to say this, but just a moment ago"- Darius began.

"No. It was not what it looked like at all!" Lenore argued.

"I believe it looked suspiciously like we were kissing and fondling," Erik said nonchalantly. "If that's not what we were doing, perhaps you'd care to explain to me what we were doing."

"You just keep your mouth shut, don't give me that logic crap!" she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and glowering at him. "Anyway, I'll just have to go back up; Mom's gonna be livid with how long I've been gone as it is, I don't need you making it worse by telling her Erik's screwing me senseless, which is not true."

"Let her be upset. It might do her good to realize that you are no longer a child and, as such, you will do as you please, when you please," he declared. "If that entails spending a week with a man instead of visiting with her, so be it."

"I'll just be leaving now," Darius muttered almost inaudibly, slipping out as quickly as possible.

"I'm in enough trouble for living with you as it is," Lenore griped. "It's only gotten worse now that she's been here a week and I spent all that time with you instead of with her."

Erik grabbed her forearm and hauled her off of the table and out into the lair, taking her over to a large stand mirror covered with a crimson drape. He attacked the buttons on the dark purple dress she had donned this morning, despite her protests and wriggling, sliding the dress off of her the moment the last button was undone. This was followed with the removal of her undergarments, which was accompanied with stronger objections and attempts at violence on Lenore's part. Turning his back on her naked form, he ripped the drapery from the mirror, exposing the brutally honest glass.

"Look at yourself. You are not a child any longer, Lenore," Erik informed her as he stepped aside to let her view her own reflection. She never seemed to quite grasp the fact if she was merely told she was a woman, so Erik was planning to make this point quite vividly. Erik shed his gloves, then came to stand behind her, leaving less than an inch to separate them, and leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "Your mother refuses to see it, and you seem reluctant to. However, it has not escaped my attention."

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His last words were delivered in a husky tone, making her tremulous with desire. The words echoed endlessly in her ears as she wondered what he was planning, wondered why he had her naked in front of a mirror. When his hands snaked around her from behind and cupped her breasts, she leaned back against him, knowing there was no point in trying to fight the euphoria he was submerging her in because Erik always won in the end.

Erik began to gently rub her nipples with his thumbs while sucking on her collarbone, and Lenore's head fell back against his shoulder. Briefly, her eyes stared at the cavern ceiling above before fluttering closed. Her breath began coming in strangled gasps, the process of drawing in oxygen becoming an effort. She needed more air, couldn't get enough of it now that her blood was racing madly through her body. There was a strange pressure building between her legs, and it seemed to pulsate, waiting a few seconds for a response from Erik between each throb of lust.

Slowly, Erik trailed his left hand down her torso, finally coming to rest between her legs. She could feel in his fingers a need to compose a seductive sonata, and Lenore knew she wanted to be the instrument for that piece. He began a slow tempo, eliciting soft moans from her throat, for he was doing extremely well. Having touched herself down there, however, Lenore knew he could do better. She slid her hand over his and guided his fingers through more pleasing movements until she was certain he had the motions memorized.

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Erik felt a warm fluid seeping out of her womanhood and knew she was ready. He slipped his index finger in and she began to pant, moaning louder than before. A few moments later, he slid in another finger. The volume of her vocalizations increased yet again, and he began to wonder how loud of a reaction he could exact from her. Hoping it wouldn't hurt her, Erik inserted a third finger.

It was a tight fit, that much he could be certain of. The mobility of his fingers became more limited, and that made him worry that it was too much for Lenore. Just as he was about to ask her if it was paining her, she began to call his name, moaning it every few seconds. Erik smirked briefly before he began to nibble on her ear; he had never touched a woman in a sexual manner, but apparently he was doing well enough to please his precious chouchoute.

When her muscles clenched around his fingers, Erik let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He gently slid his fingers out, feeling that, with that muscle contraction, her body was telling him that it'd had enough of being played with for the moment.

Erik scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. After depositing her in the bed, he removed his cloak (he'd neglected to take it off after returning with material for another dress), frock coat, waist coat, and shirt. Her eyes followed his movements, staring at his well toned torso. He laid down in the bed next to her on his side, and Lenore snuggled right up to him, yawning slightly. He had exhausted her, but if it cured her of her childishness, it was well worth it.

"I love you, Erik," she whispered just before succumbing to sleep.

_No, you don't. You say it now, but your mind is clouded with endorphins. Besides, you don't know me at all, ma petite. You can't truly love someone you don't know. But…it was sweet of you to say that. I'll treasure those words for eternity, those words which no other woman could ever bring herself to say to me before, that no woman will ever utter to me again._


	17. Chapter 17

Turns out that other ppl are having problems with the ruler thing, it's not just me. Yay! I don't feel like my computer is an incompetent piece of junk anymore.

A big thanks to Lethia for helping me write a particular scene in this chapter. Also, I'll try to put a link to a picture of the dress mentioned in this chapter up in my profile, so check for that. If it doesn't work, let me know and I'll message you the link.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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"You forgot buttons," Lenore called out to Erik.

"That dress does not require buttons," Erik informed her from his position outside the bedroom.

"With all due respect, there's no way those laces on the back are gonna hold it on me," she replied. "Hey, I didn't tell you to come in," she protested when Erik strode into the room. Without saying a word, he walked around behind her and began pulling the laces tight. "I'd like to breathe, if that's not too much to ask."

"You'll still be able to breathe. Just don't do exert yourself more than you have to," Erik sighed as he tied the laces.

"You picked a bad color," Lenore grumbled. The dress was white, with sky blue embroidery on the bodice and on the skirt from the knees down. "I look awful in pale colors, why didn't you pick something like dark blue or black?"

"I think white's quite fetching on you," Erik commented. "It makes your hair look darker."

_White is fetching on me? Is he trying to imply something there? And why does he want my hair to look darker; it's fine the way it is._ Five days had passed since Sunday, when he had familiarized his hand with her womanhood, and every statement he made since was analyzed for the slightest hint of his feelings for her. She had told him she loved him, and she meant it. Well, she couldn't be sure she had meant it, because she didn't quite know what love was. But she was pretty sure that this was love…it was all too confusing, really. It might help if Erik would tell her how he felt, but she could never find hidden meanings in anything he said.

"So what are they performing again?" Lenore inquired. The Opera House's grand reopening was tonight, which was why Erik had insisted she get dressed up after dinner. He himself was properly attired for a night out. (She remembered quite bitterly when he had called her incompetent and a complete idiot when he had asked her to tie his cravat and she had responded that she didn't know how and he hadn't needed help for the past 100 or so years, so why did he need help now?)

"Carmen, ma chérie," he answered. "It'll be performed in French, but I'll translate it for you, don't worry." Erik seemed to be studying her a moment before he sighed. "It's a pity your hair isn't longer. There's really nothing to be done with it at this length. I still think you should have let me curl it."

"My hair doesn't curl," Lenore insisted for what seemed the hundredth time. "I mean, technically it curls, but the curl falls out in twenty minutes or less."

"Perhaps it was the length of your hair that caused it to lose the curl. Have you ever tried it with your hair long enough to make proper ringlets?"

"I tried it with my hair down past my waist, and it didn't work," she informed him. "Now let's drop this trivial subject and get going; the curtain rises in fifteen minutes."

Thankfully, Erik decided to listen to her for once. He escorted her to the gondola, helped her in, then threw his cloak around his shoulders before poling out into the dark underground. They emerged from the underground in Box Five just as the house lights dimmed.

The curtain went up, and when the first words were sung, Lenore almost jumped out of her chair. She had not been prepared to hear Erik's voice inside her mind, translating the opera for her. She had expected him to sit close, whispering in her ear the whole time. She kept quiet until the intermission.

"You scared me half to death!" Lenore complained. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that?"

"I assumed you were expecting my presence in your mind, ma petite," he replied unconcernedly.

"Well, I wasn't," she muttered. _I wanted you to whisper in my ear, it's more romantic that way._

"If you wanted it to be more romantic, you should have said so."

"Why don't you ever give me any warning before snooping around in my thoughts? It's common courtesy, just like knocking on the door before entering the bathroom."

"I wouldn't acquire any useful information if I warned you," Erik explained.

It was silent for a brief moment, as Lenore couldn't think of a reply at this point in time and Erik was waiting for her to speak first. "Are we going to go out and mingle with everyone else?" she finally asked, for lack of anything else to say.

"I don't mingle."

"What's the worst that could happen? I mean, heaven forbid someone actually try to have a conversation with you," Lenore giggled. "Or what if someone expressed an interest to get to know you better?" She was trying very hard to control her laughter at the mental image of someone conversing with Erik.

"I fail to see the humor in my distaste for socializing. Perhaps I should remind you of your high school days when you refused to talk to anyone you didn't know," Erik snarled, causing her laughter to cease.

"How dare you! The things in my mind are private, thank you very much," she snapped back. The nerve of him, peering into her memories and using them against her. Certain things should be considered off-limits.

He smirked, leaning over and nipping her ear before whispering, "That's what makes it all the more enjoyable for me. Forbidden fruit always tastes the sweetest."

"I hope you choke on it," Lenore muttered back playfully, in a better mood all because Erik nibbled on her ear. _That shouldn't make everything seem better…maybe this really is love… _She didn't have a chance to inquire about Erik's feelings towards her, because the house lights dimmed once again and the performance resumed.

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Erik was wondering if he had lost his mind entirely. The performance had just ended, and he intended to take Lenore out to see her mother, who was apparently still hanging around until she saw Lenore to scold her daughter for a good number of things. "Come along," Erik instructed, taking her hand.

"Wait, I thought you didn't mingle," Lenore said, confused when he led her out into the entrance hall.

Erik neglected to respond, preparing to push through the crowds to locate the abominable mother. He quickly spotted her, all but shoving people aside as she made her way towards them, Ember trailing behind reluctantly. _I suppose we'll just wait here instead of meeting that shrew halfway._

"Lenore, you should be ashamed of yourself," her mother hissed when she reached them. "You're coming back home, to America, with me, and don't even think of arguing with me. The subject's closed."

"Mom, I hardly think that's fair," Lenore protested, but Erik could tell that she would be on a plane within the hour if he didn't intervene.

"Madam Parker, your daughter is quite capable of making her own decisions, and"- Erik began patiently.

"Don't you tell me what my daughter is or is not capable of. You have no place in this conversation! You whisked my daughter away and kept her from me; I have no doubt you've stolen her innocence at some point," Mrs. Parker snarled. "I don't approve of your relationship with Lenore at all. Why is it that you've neglected to tell us your last name, or how old you are? I don't trust you; you're obviously hiding something! Why do you wear this ridiculous mask?"

Mrs. Parker reached for the mask with lightning speed, but Erik was quicker. He grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm away with his right hand, then delivered a slap to her face with his left. "Your manners are infinitely deplorable, Madam, and if you try that again, I'll kill you," he threatened. "Lenore doesn't need you prying into her life! We would thank you kindly to leave Paris and never return! Don't try to threaten me with a dark look, Madam. Call the police and claim Lenore kidnapped if you like, but she'll dispute your claim, which"-

"Erik, I don't think"- Lenore started to interrupt.

"Yes, I quite agree, you don't think. Perhaps if you had, you'd know it's rude to interrupt," Erik growled. There was nothing he hated more than being interrupted while he was in the middle of intimidating an inferior.

"Don't speak to my daughter that way!" Mrs. Parker scolded him sharply.

"You would do well to cease thinking of her as yours," Erik snapped, pulling Lenore tightly against him.

"How dare you tell me what to think! I gave birth to her, I'm her mother, and I have every right to think of her as mine," Mrs. Parker argued.

"She is mine!" Erik growled ferociously, tightening his grip on Lenore's small frame.

"I'll show you what's yours!" Mrs. Parker all but shouted, pulling back her fist to punch him.

Swirling his cloak around himself and Lenore, Erik dropped down through the floor; he wasn't the trapdoor lover for nothing! He had worried that Madam Parker would make a scene and he might need to make a quick exit, so he had waited for her on the trapdoor he had used to exit the masquerade ball over a hundred years ago, making sure that Mrs. Parker stood just off it so that she wouldn't fall into his domain. Though that idea had become rather appealing; it would be the perfect opportunity to rid the human race of that nasty specimen. He had also gone to the trouble of improving the mechanism so that it shut immediately behind him (ensuring no one could jump in like that idiotic Vicomte had) and that it worked silently.

Lenore was not prepared for the twenty foot plunge and began squirming in his arms, shrieking as though possessed by the devil. Not that Erik really blamed her (as far as she was concerned, they were plummeting through darkness with no end in sight), but it was painful to his heightened sense of hearing. "Hold still," Erik commanded, hoping that she'd be able to hear him and comply within the few seconds left before they landed.

Lenore cried out in pain upon landing, and Erik knew immediately that she had failed to obey him. He could only hope she'd been fortunate enough to sprain her ankle rather than break it.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you?" Lenore snapped. Obviously she wasn't too badly hurt then. "Dropping me down a bloody dark hole without so much as a "brace yourself"! You know I have bad legs, how could you even think of pulling a stunt like that with me along? Now my ankle hurts, what a wonderfully romantic end to our evening!"

"Firstly, if we hadn't left when we did, I would have strangled your mother to the death. Secondly, I told you to be still; if you couldn't hear me over your shrieks, that's not my fault. And thirdly, the evening is not yet over, mademoiselle. Some people find having an injury fussed over to be somewhat romantic," Erik replied, a devilish grin gracing his face for a brief moment. She would be entirely dependent upon him for the next few days, entirely at his mercy. He could do anything he wished with her while she was injured. _Not that you'd ever take advantage of the opportunity. You're too genteel. Don Juan wouldn't let a silly little think like a lady's dignity stop him, you know._

"Well I rather like being able to walk instead of being stuck in bed!" Lenore griped.

Erik swept her feet out from under her and began making his way back to the gondola, hoping it would shut her up. Unfortunately, the 'ignore it and the problem will go away' method didn't work with Lenore's complaining. When he reached the gondola, he decided he'd have to do something to hush her up. Pressing his lips against hers, he flooded her with a sea of passion. It was quite effective in silencing her, and Erik used the opportunity to slip into her mind and place her in a light sleep that would keep her quiet until he got her back to the lair.

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Lenore woke up when Erik's strong arms lifted her out of the gondola. He had tricked her, using a kiss to mask his presence in her mind for putting her to sleep. _Damn bastard…this is definitely not love…I can't stand the man!_

_Oh? Yes, I'm sure that's right. You just can't stand him. That's why you're secretly overjoyed that he's carrying you to bed right now. The scoundrel! How could anyone ever think you might like him?_

Lenore grimaced, partially from the throbbing pain in her left ankle and partially from the truth that she couldn't hide from herself no matter how she tried. He laid her in the bed, quickly propping her ankle up on a few pillows. Pushing her skirt up above her knee, Erik began to poke and prod her ankle.

"OW!" she yelled when he pushed on a particular spot. "Let's not touch that area again, hmm?"

"A sprain," Erik diagnosed. "Don't set foot out of this bed within the next forty eight hours."

"Gee, darn," she muttered sarcastically as he left the bedroom. "I'll miss going out walking every day. There's just so many places to go and all that jazz."

Erik returned a few minutes later with bandages and a cold compress. She saw him stiffen in the doorway when he first looked at her and wondered what was wrong. Maybe he was finally feeling a pang of remorse for having put her in this position in the first place. He seemed to gather himself quickly, however, for he hurriedly strode over to her and knelt beside the bed to wrap her ankle.

As he was placing the cold compress on her ankle, Lenore reached out to touch his face, or, more appropriately, the mask. An animalistic growl sounded low in his throat and he grabbed her wrist, holding it tightly so that her fingers stopped just inches from her goal.

"Trust me," she whispered.

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When he had returned to bedroom with the cold compress and some bandages, Erik's eyes fell upon her and he tensed. She was lying on the bed (right where he'd left her and he hadn't really expected her to move), wearing a white dress. So what if it had some blue decoration on it? It was mostly white. _And who picked the color, Erik? Stop thinking about it; she'll never be your bride._

Pulling himself together, he quickly returned to tending her injury. He took great care in wrapping her ankle, making sure it was perfectly snug. He began positioning the cold compress when he saw a movement out the corner of his right eye.

Erik caught hold of her wrist just in time, growling softly. How dare she! No respectable woman would ever dare use a moment of a man's defenselessness to expose him as a monster. _It seems I'm not as defenseless as you thought, mademoiselle. How could you even consider it, when I'm graciously tending to your injuries?_

"Trust me," Lenore whispered softly.

"Trust you?" he replied just as softly, hoping he could get his anger under control. Before he could stop himself, he turned his voice to a mocking tone. " 'Trust me, Erik. I'll only expose the hideous monster underneath and try to flee the moment my ankle's mended. And if I somehow do manage to escape you, I'll run off and get married to my perfect Felix Deville and forget all about you. So trust me, Erik.' You women are all the same; vicious, heartless devils! Yes, women are more monstrous then I'll ever be capable of."

"Let go of my wrist. I promise I won't hurt you," she said sincerely. But she was far too good an actress for him to trust that.

"Liar!" he accused. "Women delight in hurting me. I haven't met a single one who thought otherwise! Oh, but you'll be the first, right? You're going to show me that there's some compassion left in the world?" Erik was slightly startled to realize that she wasn't frightened by his temper as of yet. Most women would be crying and begging him to stop. "I'm afraid I can't believe that; you're willing to defy my wishes and take off my mask." He paused briefly, examining her in that white dress. _No! No, don't! Don't say it Erik, don't be a fool!_

"There are conditions, you understand, that must be met before I grant you the privilege of seeing me," Erik informed her, his mouth plunging ahead despite the wailing protests of his mind. "You must agree to stay here with me for eternity."

"But, Erik, I"-

"You must stay here, as my wife," he finished, his mind screaming at him to shut up. Lenore blinked, a look of confusion crossing her face. "Of course, you don't need to make your decision right away. You'll want time to think things over, and that's quite understandable."

"Erik, did you drink a lot of wine with dinner?" she asked tentatively.

"Do you have such poor self esteem that you have to make an excuse for a man's behavior when he proposes marriage?" Erik shot back. "Why is your first assumption that I might be intoxicated? Is it inconceivable that a man might actually want you?"

"Um…yes?" Lenore replied as though she wasn't quite sure that was the correct answer.

"You foolish, stupid, naïve little girl," he snarled, lunging forward. He grabbed her forearms and shook her for good measure. "Don't you understand why I avoided you all last week?" Lenore was trembling now, fear starting to shimmer through her eyes. "Every moment of every day was a battle. You don't know how many times I almost lost the fight. That's why I wouldn't look at you; if I had, I would've raped you."

Lenore gasped, her eyes widening. Dear God, why did she have to make it more difficult on him? That simple little gasp had drawn his attention to her bosom for only a split second, and he found his left hand ripping at the knot on the laces of her gown. He placed the perfect left side of his face against her own, so that he could whisper in her ear.

"You know how easy it will be for me to take you, don't you? No one would hear you if you screamed. I far surpass you in physical strength, and if I have a problem holding onto you, I can easily get inside your mind and control you." His fingers had finally managed to work out the knot; in moments he could have that dress off.

"Stop," she pleaded softly. "Just stop."

"Why? Aren't you curious about making love? Why should I stop, ma chouchoute? Give me a good reason," Erik demanded.

"You're scaring me," Lenore whispered, trying to shrink away from him. She might have succeeded if he hadn't been holding her.

"I suppose that will do," he decided. Erik forced himself to let go of her and stand up. "You'll be off your feet for the next two days; use that time to think about my proposition."


	18. Chapter 18

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Ember silently thanked any and all gods that may have existed that Rosalyn was alive. If not for Rosalyn, Ember would have just stood there, staring at the spot where Erik and Lenore disappeared while her mother went off to call the cops. But Rosalyn had swooped in and managed to half push, half pull Mrs. Parker back to the managers' office.

"Please sit down, Mrs. Parker, so that we can talk this through calmly," Rosalyn said soothingly. For her part, Rosalyn was already seated at her desk, the end of the phone cord in her hand so that anyone who wanted to place a call from the office would have to go through her first. Ember had decided to stand in front of the door to make sure her mother couldn't go running out and find another phone.

"Calmly? My daughter just fell through a dark hole with a madman!" Mrs. Parker shouted.

"Actually, he seemed quite sane to me," Ember commented softly, hoping her mother wouldn't hear it. After all, if there was any way to get away from her mother, Ember was all for it.

"Sane? What kind of man wears a mask and a cloak, and disappears through trap doors with girls?" Mrs. Parker contradicted. "He's some sort of psychopathic rapist or something. Why else do you think he wouldn't give his last name? He's probably got a record with the police."

"I'm sure that Erik has quite an impressive criminal history," Rosalyn interjected. "But let's not bother ourselves with that just now. I think the best course of action is to pretend the whole thing never happened."

"Insanity must be a contagious disease!" Mrs. Parker declared. "Lenore's been kidnapped! Don't you realize that? She's. Been. Kidnapped! We have to call the police, they're equipped to handle these kinds of situations."

"We're not calling the police," Rosalyn said firmly.

"Of course we are, we have to report"-

"We're not calling the police, because there's no 'situation' to report."

"You're out of your mind!"

"I'm out of my mind? Who's the one screaming and ranting like a maniac instead of calmly considering all the facts?" Rosalyn countered.

"Ember, move aside, I'm going to find a phone," Mrs. Parker snapped. "If neither of you want to use common sense and realize we have a problem here, I'll call the police myself."

"Sit down and shut your mouth!" Rosalyn screamed with all the anger she possessed. "You need to use your own common sense!"

"Don't raise your voice at me!"

"I'm not your child, you can't tell me not to yell at you! But please, just hear me out. You can't call the police and tell them Lenore's been kidnapped. Because that's a lie. Did she ever express a single fear or concern about being with Erik? Just think for a moment. Did she even try to get away from him tonight? No. She wants to be with him, he's not holding her against her will. If you know anything at all about your daughter, then you know she'd never do anything she didn't want to," Rosalyn said.

"You're wrong. That man is a villain, he's probably threatened to kill her if she tried to escape or something," Mrs. Parker argued.

"Mom, stop it. You can't call truth a lie," Ember spoke up. "Mom…I…I think you should know…he's not really an insurance man." _Do I dare tell her? How do you tell your mother that your sister is in love with the Phantom of the Opera? _"He's…well, he's…he's the…the…phantomoftheopera." Ember squished his title into one word, saying it as quickly as possible.

"The what?" Mrs. Parker asked, not sure she'd heard Ember properly.

"It's true," Rosalyn sighed. "He's the Phantom of the Opera."

There was a few minutes silence, in which Mrs. Parker looked back and forth between the two girls. "If I had known either of you were insane, I would never have agreed to letting Lenore come to look at this building."

"We're not crazy!" Ember protested.

"Of course you're not, dear," Mrs. Parker said, her tone implying that she was trying to pacify an angered mentally disabled person. "Now, why don't we go for a little walk to the kitchen?"

"You're not leaving this office until we're clear that this conversation doesn't leave this room, and you swear on a Bible that you won't call the police," Rosalyn informed Mrs. Parker sweetly.

"Now Rosalyn, let's be reasonable here," Mrs. Parker said through gritted teeth, not at all happy with being told to swear on a Bible. A Bible! Good Christians didn't swear, didn't Rosalyn know that? "The Phantom of the Opera is dead. Dead. He can't possibly still be alive. What we have here is obviously a very convincing copycat. And it would be wise to turn this matter over to the police before anyone gets hurt."

"We are not dealing with a copycat, I can assure you of that," Ember said. "I've been under the Opera House with him. There are tunnels down there that aren't on the blueprints, and he has an extensive knowledge of them. I've only been to the lair twice, but he's taken me a different way each time, I know that much. You'd have to live down there for…years and years to even begin to know your way. And it's pitch black down there, he doesn't use a light at all. How do you explain that?"

"I think it would be best for everyone concerned, Mrs. Parker, if you just get on your plane tomorrow morning and act as if nothing's happened," Rosalyn insisted.

"I'm not just going to abandon Lenore to some psycho who decided to play around below the Opera House and pretend to be the Phantom of the Opera," Mrs. Parker stated. "And if – if! – he really is who he claims to be, that's all the more reason not to leave."

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Lenore yawned and sat up, wondering what time it was and how long she'd been asleep. Erik had left her last night, telling her to think on his proposition, which she was quite puzzled about. It had sounded like he proposed marriage, but that was ridiculous. _Is it? Is it really such a foreign thought to you? _To be quite frank, she had been certain that Erik was only amusing himself with her, that he didn't have any real affection for her.

She was suddenly aware that she was being watched. Looking around, she found Erik leaning against a wall, his eyes trained on her. She stared back for a few moments before finally looking away. _He didn't even blink!_

"What time is it?" she inquired, managing to get the question out after a few stammered attempts. He was watching her obsessively, and it was somewhat frightening.

"Morning," Erik said evasively.

"I'd like to know the exact time, please," Lenore replied. He would have to take his eyes off of her to look at his pocket watch, and she would welcome that gladly.

"What makes you so valuable, Lenore?" he asked, his eyes glued on her.

"What do you mean?"

"Your mother had a talk with the American ambassador here in France, and they're sending in Navy SEALs to rescue you," Erik explained. "They wouldn't go to all that trouble for a simple citizen. So what makes you so valuable?"

Lenore sighed. _Why did the government have to get involved in this? Why couldn't Mom just go back home and pretend nothing happened? Why didn't Rosalyn and Ember convince her to keep her mouth shut about all this?_ The Navy SEALs were not to be taken lightly, and she knew he deserved an explanation as to why he was at such risk for her sake.

"Well…" she said, taking a deep breath. _You won't cry…you won't. _"In my senior year of high school, I was driving home one night from the musical. I was one of the chorus members, but that's not really the point. A car crossed the yellow line, and…I slowed down, because I just knew he'd swerve back into his lane if I gave him enough time." Lenore felt tears welling up in her eyes already. "I…he…it just…it happened so fast, I"- She burst into tears at that point, but continued on, spitting out a few words between sobs. "The car just…crumpled like foil…and caught fire…I…I couldn't…couldn't get out." She stopped there, trying to collect herself. After a few minutes, she had the tears and sobs under control again. "We took him to civil court, for pain and suffering. Turns out the man was a multi-billionaire executive. I got almost every penny he had, all his houses and cars. I sold the cars, but I've got estates in Louisanna, Maine, Arizona, California, Hawaii, Japan, Germany, England, Russia, India, Australia, a penthouse in New York City…I'm the seventh wealthiest woman in America."

"How did you get all that money from him?" Erik said after a moment.

"By having some of the worst injuries the doctors had ever seen and a really good lawyer representing me," Lenore replied. It was a rather large sum for what seemed like trivial injuries, but Erik didn't know that she'd had internal bleeding in her liver and would have died if the helicopter had taken one minute longer in getting her to the hospital that night. "That bastard was drunk. He passed out at the wheel. They found out later that he'd shot himself full of meth too. Who gets in a fucking car in that state?" She paused to take a deep breath, ridding herself of the anger that had her by the throat. "Needless to say, he's ruined now."

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Erik's eyes never left her face, but he was seeing her legs in his mind. He had known it had to have been a very serious accident to have left her so mutilated. He didn't bother remonstrating her for her language; in her position, he probably would've said something much the same or perhaps worse. The room was silent for countless minutes before Erik broke it.

"Well, we'll have to move now," he sighed.

"Move? What do you mean?" Lenore asked, bewildered.

"We can't very well stay in this cave, it's far too easy to find," Erik explained. "I suppose we'll have to go to the house."

"House? You have a house?"

"Of course I have a house, just like anybody else," Erik hissed. Why was it such an outlandish concept that he had a house?

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You've just never mentioned it before; I assumed this was the only place you lived."

Erik decided to let the subject drop; she had a good point. He strode over and scooped her up into his arms. She was still wearing the white dress from last night, which he found odd. _Why didn't you take it off before falling asleep? Didn't it occur to you that it might have put the thought of marriage into my mind?_ He took her out into the lair and gently set her in the gondola, being careful of her ankle.

"How did you find out that they're sending in the SEALs?" Lenore asked as he slowly directed the boat towards his old dwelling.

"Darius has his uses, you know," Erik told her, a grin conquering his face. Darius should be at the house by now with a new bed; his mother's bed that had been privileged enough to cradle Christine during her stay in his abode had rotted quite some time ago. Of course, all the other furniture had fallen apart as well, and would have to be replaced, but Erik was most concerned with providing a comfortable bed for Lenore to rest in while Darius helped Erik move things from the lair into the house.

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Lenore gave a start when the gondola stopped. She had expected lights, or perhaps a dock, anything to signify that there was a dwelling. _Then again, the house would too easy to find if there were windows that poured out light._ Erik took her up into his arms again, those strong arms that produced two very opposite reactions within her. The first reaction was a feeling of safety and security, yet the second was one of pure terror. His strength was frightening, especially considering her own immense lack of physical strength. His words came echoing around in her mind again. _"You know how easy it will be to take you, don't you?" _She had hoped he'd never think of that…

Erik seemed to take only a few steps when she was blinded by light. Granted, it wasn't a vast amount of light, nor was it very bright, but it had been so dark just a moment ago. When Lenore opened her eyes, she realized they were inside his house. There was a fire place against one wall, and a few tables had been scattered around the room to hold candles. Darius entered the room through a hidden door on the side.

She didn't understand the conversation that followed between the two men, because they spoke in French. _Erik, are you intending to hold me the whole time, or are you going to find somewhere to set me down? I honestly don't know how much more of these feelings of peace and fear I can take._

When they finished with their conversation, Erik took her into the room Darius had come out of. She was quite unprepared for the sight of it, and couldn't hold in a gasp. The black walls made the room small, and intimidating at the same time. Blood-red gossamer curtains hung from a canopy in the middle of the room, under which was a king-size wooden sleigh bed. The wood was a dark one, cherry if Lenore wasn't mistaken, and had been elaborately carved with vines and flowers. The white ivory keyboard that lined an entire wall was also a spectacular sight. There was one table in this room, and it was situated right beside the door. The result of having only one table in the room was that it was loaded with as many candles as it could safely hold, which caused strange shadows to leap through the room with each flicker of a flame.

Erik laid Lenore down on the bed, and she couldn't keep from commenting on it. "It's so soft, almost like floating on a cloud," she said with a smile. Darius must have been making the bed just before they had arrived, for the bed looked brand new. The linens and blankets themselves, however, were not. The material was obviously very old, and she was afraid that if she shifted even an inch, she'd rip a hole in the blankets. "Are you sure it's alright to touch the blankets? They're old and fragile, I don't want to rip them or anything."

"Well, that's quite an insult. They're not that much younger than I am, ma chérie," Erik informed her. "I'll have new bedding tomorrow morning. The furniture I used to have here rotted some time ago, you see. After Christine left I just…didn't care to come back."

A stab of guilt made Lenore look at the floor. It was her mother's fault that Erik had to come back here and recall rather unhappy moments of his life. There was another feeling though, something else that burned inside of her. _I'm…I'm jealous. I'm jealous of a woman who died about a hundred years ago. What's wrong with me? It's not like I have to worry that he'll leave me for her; she's a corpse, for heaven's sake, he'd have to be really sick to want her over me._

"I like the bed frame," she said to change the subject. "It's cherry, right?"

"Quite observant of you," Erik remarked.

"I always liked dark woods," Lenore replied. "It must have cost a lot of money, what with all the carvings."

"Only two thousand, two hundred American dollars," Erik said dismissively.

"Where did you get so much money?" Lenore muttered.

"Surely you remember that my salary came due yesterday."

"Well, yeah, but you didn't exactly have a chance to pick it up with my mom trying to punch you and all."

"I retrieved my salary early yesterday morning," Erik responded. "Mademoiselle Kendall had no objections to meeting me at six o'clock to hand it to me personally. I must say, I do rather enjoy the relationship I have with the management this time around. It was such a bother to have my other managers leave it for me in my Box, you know."

"Wait. If you got your salary, then what am I still doing down here? Why didn't you just leave me up there last night instead? Now you've got to deal with Navy SEALs! We could probably stop the whole thing if you return me now," Lenore mused.

"What are you on about? Erik inquired curiously.

"You said that once we paid your salary, I was free to go," she reminded him.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, ma petite," he sighed. "What I said was that if you produced my salary, you may go. I was using the word 'may' with the meaning that it was a possibility, not that you were allowed to."

"That's not fair!"

"Do not blame me for your misinterpretation."

"Then when am I allowed to leave?" she snapped. It wasn't that she wanted to leave, she just wanted to be free to come and go as she pleased.

"How does never sound to you?" Erik retorted. He didn't give her a chance to respond. "Yes, I think never will do quite nicely."

"You can't make that decision! I have at least some say in the matter!" she quarreled.

"Oh? How is that?"

"It's my life we're talking about! You make all this fuss about me being a woman, but you don't want to let me make my own decisions."

"I make decisions for you because you are mine. You belong to me!" Erik hissed.

"You don't own me! You can't own other people!" Lenore argued.

"Humans cannot own other humans, that's quite true," Erik consented. "But mortal men were made to be toys for the immortal."

"I'm a person, not a possession," she whispered angrily.

"Oh, I assure you, you're a toy, mademoiselle. God and Satan quite enjoy you because humans are exceptional toys, because you can think for yourselves. I've watched Satan at work and it's rather entertaining to see you mortals struggle to figure out who your master is and which games you will play," Erik said with a sadistic smile.

"I don't believe you. You're not immortal"-

"Then how am I alive at this age? I'm over a hundred and fifty, and if I'm not immortal, then I'm certainly in surprisingly good condition for my age!"

Every word he said seemed to make her intelligence fade away. _A hundred and fifty? That's a huge age gap, not very good for our relationship…_ She should have been thinking about the fact that he was immortal and viewed her as a plaything for idle hours, but her mind refused to acknowledge that because it hurt too much. _Maybe he's lying about the immortal thing…_

"You're old-fashioned, that's all," Lenore accused. "Back in your day, a woman was considered a possession for men. A wife wasn't someone you loved, she was a trophy that you'd display at parties. But I'm not old-fashioned, and I don't agree with that. A wife is an equal partner in the relationship, a person who has feelings that need to be considered. I'm a person, and you can't own me."

A sharp pain in her mind made her cry out, and she could feel things shifting, changing. Every thought in her mind was suddenly about Erik. How to better serve him, how to please him. As suddenly as they came, those thoughts were gone. "It would be all too easy to own you if I truly wished it, child," Erik informed her coldy. "But I don't want a mindless slave, I want a willing wife. I'll wait as long as it takes for you to willingly give yourself to me; I've got all the time in the world." Erik turned on his heel and practically stormed out of the room. Pausing in the doorway, he looked back over his shoulder at her. "Whether you become mistress of this house or remain my doll is entirely up to you. Either way, welcome home, Lenore."

The door slammed shut behind him, making her wince. "Erik? It's dark in here," she called after him. She received no reply and her voice dropped to a whisper. "It's dark in here, and I'm scared."

_Remain his doll? What did he mean by that? …Oh God, why didn't I see it before?_ Erik dressed her in clothes of his choosing, just as a child would a doll. He was always arguing with her, playing mind games of all kinds. Like a child, he did not play with her every moment. He had his other amusements, his art and his music. _God, I've been so blind._

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"Perhaps you should've locked the door," Darius commented, staring at the empty bed.

Erik didn't hear him. _How dare she! That ungrateful little wretch! She's only hurting herself, that sprain hasn't had enough time to heal. If only I'd checked on her earlier…_ He'd been through the entire underground, looking for Lenore, but she was gone. He would've pursued her aboveground, but the SEALs had the worst timing and chose that particular moment to manage to find him. All five of them were currently in his torture chamber, and he was prolonging death in the hopes that one of them would crack and tell him where Lenore was. Erik had tried to read their minds, but they'd been trained to withhold information far too well, and he couldn't break the barriers they had erected around the facts he required. Well, he could break the barriers, but that would immediately cause death, and then the information would be gone.

8888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888888

"It seems the authoress is quite upset," Darius noted.

"Yes, as she well should be. Only one out of every ten readers reviews," Erik replied.

"It is rather annoying," sighed the authoress.

"Did you tell them that you accept anonymous reviews, so they don't have to go to the trouble of logging in if they don't feel like it, or don't have to be a member to leave you a review?" Erik inquired.

"Um…" authoress mumbled, blushing. "Anyway, that might not make any difference. But perhaps if I auctioned you off…Sell you for reviews…tempting idea…"

"Try it and you'll find a noose around your neck."

"Meanie…"

"Do ignore these two, they're not very polite," Darius pleaded the audience. "Please do be kind enough to review."


	19. Chapter 19

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Lenore rubbed her eyes tiredly. She felt like she was just coming out of a drugged stupor. She remembered limping through the underground, dragging her left foot along despite the pain. Luckily for her, she ran into one of the Navy SEALs quite literally and began clinging to him for support. He told his five teammates that he was taking her back up right away and that they should continue searching for Erik.

_"Don't, just leave, right now," Lenore pleaded. "He'll kill you if he finds you. We have to get out while there's still time."_

But they hadn't listened to her, not at all. The man she clung to left another in charge and then helped her back aboveground. An ambulance was waiting outside the Opera House and she was rushed off to be checked out. There had been endless scans and blood tests, all blurring together in her mind.

She opened her eyes, staring in confusion at the white, padded walls around her. Lenore got to her feet, padding over to the door. She tried to open it, but it was locked. _What's going on? Why am I in here?_ She stumbled over to a corner of the room in a daze, sitting down and hugging her knees to her chest. _It's a mistake, just a mistake._

When the door opened a few minutes later and a nurse walked in, Lenore leapt at the woman. "What's going on? Why I am in here? Who are you? Where am I?"

"Calm down, mademoiselle," the woman said. "You need to take these pills." She proffered said drugs, and Lenore tried to make a break for it. The nurse grabbed her by the arms

"I'm not taking your drugs, there's nothing wrong with me!" Lenore shouted, squirming.

"Doctor! Doctor!" the nurse screamed desperately.

Two big men came rushing into the room, each taking one of Lenore's arms. "Let me go! There's nothing wrong with me, I'm not crazy!" she insisted. She continued wriggling fruitlessly as the nurse rushed out of the room to retrieve the doctor. When the nurse returned with him, Lenore's jaw just about dropped. "Sebastian! You have to help me!"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do, but you need to take zese pills first," Sebastian said soothingly.

"No. I'm not crazy," Lenore informed him. _We're friends, aren't we? Why aren't you helping me out? Why don't you tell them that I'm not crazy?_ Deciding it might look better for her case, she quit struggling. "Why am I in here? What makes you think I'm insane?"

"You've had a very trying time," Sebastian said carefully. "It's not your fault at all, and if you take your medicines, you can leave in three days. Won't you just take your pills?"

"Will they put me to sleep?"

"We won't give you a tranquilizer unless you become violent," he promised her.

"Alright then, I'll take them. But I demand to know what's going on," Lenore demanded. "I want to hear it from you, and I want to hear it in private."

"Just as soon as you take the meds."

Lenore held out her hands and the nurse gave her the little pills and a small paper cup with water as the two guards released her. She placed the pills in her mouth and washed them down with the water. "Open your mouth. Alright, lift your tongue," the nurse said, inspecting Lenore's mouth for evidence that she'd faked swallowing the pills. "Good girl. I'll leave her to you, Dr. Rousseau."

_Who knew Sebastian was a psychiatrist?_

"Well, let's head down zee hall to my office," he suggested, taking her arm gently.

Lenore looked around warily as they proceeded down the hall. She could see through small windows into the doors of other rooms like hers, with people who were trembling fitfully, or talking to themselves, or staring off into space. _I don't belong here, there's nothing wrong with me._

Sebastian gestured to a cushioned chair in front of his desk as he shut the office door behind them. "Now, this may come as a shock for you," Sebastian said, sounding very professional. "Zee doctors at zee hospital believe you have been zee victim of a new drug."

"What? That's preposterous," Lenore griped.

"Zee authorities have yet to catch zee man who introduced you to the drug, so ve're not quite sure what you've been exposed to," Sebastian continued.

"What man? Do you mean Erik?" Sebastian gave her a blank look. "Erik, the Phantom of the Opera."

"Ve're all agreed zat zis man gave you some form of hallucinogen, and that you believed him to be to be zee Phantom," Sebastian explained.

"You don't have any proof of any drug," Lenore protested.

"The brain scans, mademoiselle, came back rather curiously. You see, zere's zis sort of distortion, a blurriness. Zey tried several different machines and always came back with zee same result," he informed her. "Ve think it's an effect of the drug, but you von't be exposed to it again, so in time, zee scans should become clearer. Some of your medicines are to help with zat. You'll suffer withdrawal symptoms, though quite frankly, ve're not sure what to expect, as ve've never encountered a drug like this before. To affect zee brain in such a fashion…'tis quite fascinating, really."

"Let's assume for a minute that I believe you. Why would I let some stranger give me a drug?"

"It's natural to experience depression after zee accident you 'ad, and you refused anti-depressants and counseling. Pent up depression can cause you to try things you wouldn't normally," Sebastian began. "Zee drug he gave you made you hallucinate, and you enjoyed zese hallucinations, so you kept taking it until you became so addicted zat you needed it every moment. So you vent to live with 'im, in 'is 'ideout under zee Opera House."

"Why would he be making drugs under an Opera House?"

"Zee building 'ad been abandoned for two years, which meant little chance of disturbance or being discovered. Zee authorities agree with zis theory; zey found a cave zat looked as though it 'ad been lived in recently. He probably fled when you escaped."

Hours later, alone in the padded room once more, Lenore realized that the theory was entirely credible. _I was such an idiot! How could I possibly believe that the Phantom of the Opera was still alive? I should have known it was all some sort of twisted dream. How could I have been so gullible? I mean, didn't I know the guy was fishy from the start? There he was asking for an extraordinary amount of money, probably to finance his experiments. He was violent with me, threatened me…And he never gave me a last name so that if I did try to expose him, he couldn't be caught. God, everything always happens to me. First, that car accident, and now being the victim of drug experimentation._

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"How's she doing, doctor?" Mrs. Parker asked on her visit. Lenore had been in the institution for two days now.

"She's doing much better," Dr. Rousseau assured her. "She admits zat zere is no Phantom of zee Opera, zat it was probably all in 'er mind. She takes 'er medicines without complaint. I'm quite impressed that she's not suffering nightmares from withdrawal."

"Well, the doctors said they didn't recognize it, and if it's a new drug, then withdrawal symptoms might be peculiar. You haven't noticed any peculiar behavior, have you?" Mrs. Parker inquired worriedly.

"Zee only symptom she seems to 'ave is a recurring 'eadache, but I wouldn't worry about zat much," the young man said calmly.

"I'll be so relieved to see her today," Mrs. Parker stated as they came to a small recreation room in the institution. Lenore was sitting next to a window, staring out of it with a bored expression. She looked so pale, much paler than usual, no doubt from all her time as a captive under the Opera House. Mrs. Parker took a seat next to her daughter, not even noticing that Dr. Rousseau had left. "Lenore, how are you?"

"Oh, hi Mom," Lenore said brightly, turning to look at her mother with a smile. "I'm doing alright. And…I'm sorry about all this."

"It's not your fault, honey. You didn't know, you really were convinced it was the Phantom because of that drug," Mrs. Parker said supportively.

"Yeah, but I should've gotten counseling or something for my depression after the accident. Then I wouldn't have tried the drug," Lenore responded. "You know, the weirdest thing was that I didn't even know I was depressed. I thought I was just fine. I mean, yeah, I was sometimes sad or mad, but I never thought it was too bad."

"Well, it's normal not to realize it. And Dr. Rousseau said, in your case, even if you had recognized your depression for what it was, you probably wouldn't have admitted it to yourself. He said that sometimes, people are so desperate to believe that everything's going to return to normal after a terrible accident that they convince themselves that they're fine, even if they know they're not."

They sat in silence for a few minutes. "Some luck I've got, hm?" Lenore chuckled wryly after a moment. "Kinda makes me wonder what's next for me."

"God willing, you'll settle down with a nice man and start a family," Mrs. Parker said positively. "I met a very nice boy who seemed very concerned about you. Felix Deville. He's planning to be a lawyer, you know."

"Oh Mom," Lenore muttered with a smile. "Are you implying that I should marry him for his money?"

"Of course not, you've got plenty of that," Mrs. Parker replied. "I was just saying. He seems very nice, and he's obviously planning for the future. And he was very worried about you."

"Well, I'll think about it."

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Hey, authoress here. Just wanted to remind you that I accept anonymous reviews, so please leave me one.


	20. Chapter 20

Wow, long chapter here…but it's a very good one, if you ask me.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Lenore sighed contentedly as she shut the door to the room Felix had provided her. She had spent a month with him at this country estate in Italy. Sebastian said it would be a good idea to get away for awhile, so when Felix offered to take her to Italy, she had jumped at it. The estate was situated not far from Rome, and Felix had shown her all the sights of the city.

She occasionally received letters from her mother asking how she was, and she sent replies detailing what she and Felix had been doing since the last time she wrote. Today, Felix had taken her horseback riding through the country, stopping at a quaint little place for lunch before turning and heading back.

Lenore sat down at her desk, where she found an envelope addressed to her. As she opened it, she remembered the first week she had spent here with Felix. She had jumped a mile anytime there was a knock on the door, afraid it would be that madman who had drugged her, coming to kill her or take her back for more experimentation. Felix had been absolutely wonderful, reassuring her everything was alright and making sure she took her depression and anxiety pills.

The envelope contained an invitation to a masked ball at the Opera House. Ember had asked if she would attend, then move back in with them afterwards. Lenore thought about it for a moment. _I don't know if I'm ready to move back in. Maybe a short visit, for the ball, but…I just don't know. _

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"She agreed to come to the ball, but she's not sure about moving back in," Ember said. "She said if she didn't have any panic attacks at the ball, she'd think about it."

"I really wish she'd just come back," Rosalyn grumbled. "Her absence is costing us a mint."

"I know," Ember sighed. Rosalyn and Ember had denied Lenore's story when she first told it, saying that they'd never seen the man till the night before she escaped him. They also said she'd gone off into the cellars claiming she was mapping out the tunnels so they could install lights. _I'm sorry we lied…but if we hadn't, we'd have been in the psych ward with her, having pills shoved down our throats._ Mrs. Parker had promised not to mention their secret confession in the office, claiming that Lenore must have introduced him as such, persuaded them into thinking that's who he was. For once, Ember didn't care that her mother was implying that she had been gullible enough to believe such a cockamamie story.

When the French police went in to find the missing Navy SEALs, they came across an abandoned cavern on the lake and found the SEALs hiding in a niche, murmuring about a monster. Those poor men were committed to the same institution Lenore had been in and had yet to be released.

And then the letter from Erik had appeared in Ember's desk. Ember had read it over and over until she had it memorized.

Mademoiselles Kendall and Parker,

I quite regret having caused you any problems, but you must realize that any such problems I have caused are direct results of your own carelessness. Those poor men found in the lair by the police will never regain their sanity; I have made quite sure of that. Perhaps you should have advised Madam Parker to forget Lenore and return to the United States.

Speaking of Lenore, I am quite perturbed by her absence. Until she returns, I will require an increase in my salary. I expect seven hundred seventy thousands francs from this point forward.

Should either of you attempt to bring my presence to the attention of authorities, I will see to it that a good number of the human race suffers for your inability to keep a secret.

O.G.

She knew exactly why he wanted an increase in salary; if Lenore wouldn't return, he intended to bankrupt them and have them out of his Opera House.

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Erik sat in the chair in front of the fireplace, in a foul mood once again. Even after he had discovered Lenore was gone, Erik had taken great care in arranging the knickknacks she had brought down, placing them on the mantelpiece for the most part. His eyes looked through them tonight, for he didn't need to see them anymore; he had memorized each one. The clear crystal cat, the three ballerina statuettes, the castle, the glass rose, the dark seductive fairy dressed in red. His fingers had caressed each one countless times, as if his touches could reach her through her trinkets.

His right hand cradled the necklace he had given her; Cristoph had brought it to him, having found it a day after she had left. The chain had broken when Lenore made her escape, so that the only material symbol of his affection was left lying on the cold stone floor. She must have felt the chain snap, should have heard it hit the floor, but she had left it behind. It was horribly scratched now, and a piece of the pearl had even chipped off.

His left hand stroked Cristoph absently, while his thoughts collided with each other in his head. _Why did you have to tell her she was your possession? Because I had to make her understand that she was made for me, that she belonged here with me. You should never have told her that you were immortal. But I wanted to be honest with her. Why did you go and scare her by showing her that you could make her yours with a simple thought? I wanted her to know how kind and generous I was being, not forcing her devotion…I just wanted her, that's all. You can't have her, you can't have any woman! I thought, just this once…that she might be able to love me. No woman would ever love you, just look at your face in a mirror!_

Erik heaved a sigh. He should probably get up. He'd been sitting in this chair for almost two weeks now, since he'd retrieved his doubled salary at the beginning of August (not that the extra money made him feel better, as he had hoped). He hadn't had a bath in God knew how long, nor had he eaten at all. Every time he fell asleep, which thankfully wasn't often, he had dreamed about Lenore. She always had some sarcastic comment about how long he'd kept her waiting and demanding that he start paying more attention to her.

Erik's front door swung open and Darius ducked inside. Most people would have complained that Darius hadn't knocked, but Erik had ceased answering the door, so Darius just waltzed in at his leisure now. "You accomplish nothing sitting there moping," Darius commented, taking a seat on the sofa.

"You know nothing," Erik hissed. If Nadir hadn't been such a faithful, religious man, Erik would have made him immortal. But Nadir had refused, seeming scandalized that Erik had even brought it up. Darius, on the other hand, was uncertain about his faith at the time, and had jumped at the idea.

"I know that you will want to attend the masked ball tomorrow night," Darius contradicted.

"I detest social gatherings. I detest humans in general and prefer to keep as much distance between myself and that species as possible," Erik grumbled.

"Well, I suppose if that's the case, it won't matter to you that Lenore will be attending," Darius said casually.

"Well, perhaps I could be bothered to attend," Erik responded nonchalantly. _Look at that, she's coming back! You see? She loves me. She's realized that she belongs here with me. Damn, I've got so much to do before she gets here. I'll need a bath and a shave, and I'll have to come up with a costume. I'll need new sheets and blankets for the bed…oh, and food. She can't live without food, how ridiculous of me to forget something so simple. Flowers would make a nice decorative touch too…_

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Lenore took the hand Felix offered, letting him help her out of the car in front of the Opera House. He had chosen to come as Orpheus, a sweet gesture on his part for it symbolized that he was willing to go to Hell to get her back should she be taken from him. Of course, she was also quite afraid that he wouldn't be able to follow the rules required to bring her back, as Orpheus looked back for his Eurydice and lost her for disobeying Hades. When she had pointed that out, Felix said that if that should happen, then he could only hope he would be as lucky as Orpheus was and be taken away to a place where he could gaze upon her form in the stars for eternity. His costume was a simple Grecian tunic with a sword strapped to his side, for "no man would face Hades without a sword."

As for Lenore, she had decided to go as a geisha. Her face was painted white, with heavy mascara on her lashes and brilliant red lipstick to draw attention to her lips. She wore a jade green kimono with a black obi, a Japanese fan tucked into it. She pulled out the fan, spreading it out and bringing it up to cover the lower half of her face as Felix led her into the entrance hall.

Only moments after entering the building, Ember, Patrick and Rosalyn were upon them. Ember was a fairy, wearing a very short and revealing dress of greens and browns, gorgeous wings attached to her back fluttering as she walked around in bare feet. Patrick was a leprechaun, and Rosalyn was a wood elf, and obviously a warrior elf at that, for she wore brown leather pants and a brown shirt, a green cloak around her shoulders, and a quiver of arrows on her back, a strung bow in hand.

"Where's Sebastian?" Lenore inquired after pleasantries had been exchanged.

"Couldn't get away for the evening," Patrick responded. "Seems a few of his patients tried to escape and kill the other inmates. Claimed the other inmates were minions of the fiendish monster that lived in the ground, they did."

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Erik smiled the moment Lenore stepped through the doors. The jade kimono made her hair seem all the more golden. However, his smile slipped when he saw that damn Deville boy on her arm. Hiding within the walls, he knew he would have to bide his time. He must enter at precisely the right moment. Trying to ignore Deville's presence, Erik concentrated on the music in the background, despite the fact that it wasn't a good classical song.

Oh Vivica, I wish you well.  
I watch you burn in humid hell.  
No sleeping pills, no old tattoos  
Will save you now.

He'll never change, he's just too vague  
He'll never say you're beautiful.  
Oh Vivica I wish you well, I really do.  
I really do.

Deville would never tell Lenore she was beautiful…and if she had chosen that ridiculous boy over him, then he truly did wish her well, for it wouldn't be easy for her.

The apple falls far from the tree.  
She's rotten and so beautiful.  
I'd like to keep her here with me  
And tell her that she's beautiful.  
She takes the pills to fall asleep  
And dreams that she's invisible.  
Tormented dreams, she stays awake  
Recalls when she was capable.

_Yes, I'd love to keep you with me and tell you how beautiful you truly are. And your tormented dreams do keep you awake, ma chérie, and all you can remember is how capable you were before the accident._

Oh Vivica, I wish you well.  
I watch you sit, I watch you dwell.  
No crooked spine, no torn up rag  
Will save you now.  
He'll never change, he's not that brave.  
He'll never say you're beautiful.  
Oh Vivica, I wish you well, I really do.  
I really do.

The apple falls far from the tree.  
She's rotten and so beautiful.  
I'd like to keep her here with me  
And tell her that she's beautiful.  
She takes the pills to fall asleep  
And dream that she's invisible.  
Tormented dreams, she stays awake  
Recalls when she was capable.

I wish you well…  
I wish you well…  
I wish you well…  
I wish you well…

Oh Vivica, I wish you well.  
I'll sit right here, I'll never tell.  
No tender scar, no twist of fate  
Will save you now.  
He'll never change, he's just not there.  
He'll never say you're beautiful.  
Oh Vivica, I wish you well, I really do.  
I really do.

The apple falls far from the tree.  
She's rotten and so beautiful.  
I'd like to keep her here with me  
And tell her that she's beautiful.  
She takes the pills to fall asleep  
And dream that she's invisible.  
Tormented dreams, she stays awake  
Recalls when she was capable.

She's empty and so beautiful  
I'll keep her here with me.

_Yes, I'll keep you here with me…I have to, for your own good, and for my sanity._

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Lenore spent a good two hours dancing with Felix before she asked for a breather. Not that they actually breathed during that time, because Felix had decided it was the perfect time for them to make out. It was something they'd done quite frequently over the past week, and she wasn't against it. Felix's tongue slipped into her mouth in an unguarded moment.

_I've kissed like this before._ A tongue, gently yet eagerly tasting her mouth. Hands, tangling in her hair. Sitting on a table in a cold, damp, candlelit room.

She ripped away from Felix quickly. "I'm sorry," she said. "I just"-

"It's alright," Felix assured her. "Per'aps ve should return to zee dance floor."

"Sounds good," Lenore consented, giving him a small smile. They made their way through a myriad of dancing couples as the El Tango de Roxanne from Moulin Rouge began.

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Erik prided himself on how well he controlled his rage as he watched Deville kiss Lenore so familiarly. But, they'd had plenty of time to become familiar.

His eyes upon your face.

His hand upon your hand.

His lips caress your skin.

It's more than I can stand!

How true that was. _Insolent boy, touching what is mine! I was quite right then in the Louvre; somehow, I just knew that the next time you came into this building it would be your grave._

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Lenore was leaning in for a kiss with Felix at the end of El Tango de Roxanne when the room was suddenly plunged into darkness. _Just stay calm, nothing's going to happen, it's just some fluke or something._

The lights flashed back to life, leaving the guests stunned by the sudden change. Once eyes adjusted, the guests found themselves staring up the main stairs to see an imposing figure. Forest green pants were tucked into the tops of knee-high black leather boots. The shirt was a few shades lighter than the pants, whereas the floor-length leather jacket was a few shades darker. The gloves were black leather, and a black mask covered his face. His right hand rested on the sword at his hip, and his stormy blue eyes told everyone exactly what he had come as. The fourth of the Seven Deadly Sins, Envy. And those furiously jealous eyes were fixed on a geisha in jade, who was in the arms of a Grecian hero.

"Lenore," Felix whispered softly, "is zat who I think it is?"

She couldn't reply; it was a challenge just to breathe. _Pills…need the pills…get the pills…_ Her hand refused to move to her obi, where her pills where hidden in a little tin. _Pills…pills…PILLS! _The need for said pills dramatically increased when Envy took a step down, bringing him closer. _It's not him, it's just not possible. They said he'd left, that he was long gone. I'm having an anxiety attack, I'm hallucinating him._

"Lenore?" Felix persisted.

"It…it…no, no, I just need to take my pills," she mumbled.

"How rude of the management to throw a ball without inviting me," the all too familiar voice rang out. "I hope my presence is no inconvenience to them." That last line was delivered dripping with sarcasm.

"Who are you to think zat zee management vould vant you here?" Felix challenged. "Take off zee mask, show us who you are!"

Lenore had finally recovered herself enough to speak about something other than the pills and yelled, "Don't you touch me! I'll call the police!"

Envy continued his slow pace down the stairs, entirely unconcerned by her words. "What an interesting choice in costume, Lenore. The boy must be paying for your services. So what are we to have? A traditional Japanese dance? Or perhaps a song?" he remarked. "Don't keep us waiting, little geisha."

"Leave 'er alone, you monster," Felix snarled, stepping in front of Lenore and drawing his sword out of the sheath a few inches, the short amount of the blade that was exposed shimmering threateningly. Envy had just reached the bottom of the stairs, and was consequently only twenty feet away from them. The guests had long since shrank back as far as they could, leaving Lenore and Felix alone to deal with this man. Ember and Rosalyn stood on the edges of the crowd, ready to rush out should their help be required.

"If it's a duel you want, Monsieur, I'm more than happy to oblige," Envy replied, his left hand drawing his own rapier with lightning speed.

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Felix drew his sword. He taken fencing classes since he was a boy, this should be a breeze. Many men waved a sword around as if they knew how to handle it, but when it came down to it very few knew anything about swordsmanship.

A few minutes later, Felix was reassessing his first impression of his opponent. The man wasn't following the rules of fencing at all. He even took cheap shots. At one point, the man had managed to hook his foot behind Felix's and with a quick movement, had Felix on his back on the floor. Fortunately, Felix had gotten his sword up in time to save him from a lethal down stroke.

This wasn't fencing as Felix knew it at all. The man was supposed to let him attack if he successfully parried the blow aimed him. But this monster relentlessly struck out in offense, putting Felix entirely on the defensive. Felix's arms ached from parrying, his legs were almost quivering from having jumped around wildly to dodge the relentless attacks.

_What type of strikes can he be using? There's so much force behind each blow, it's like he's using a sledgehammer instead of a sword. Certainly it's some form of technique. But which one?_

They could only have been dueling for ten minutes when Felix felt his arms going weak. He couldn't push himself any further than he already had. And that was the moment when Felix realized this wasn't a duel about honor, this wasn't some game that would end when one of them couldn't continue. This was a fight to the death, and unless God granted a miracle, the death would be his own.

The man stumbled suddenly, and Felix threw everything he had into a side stroke. His opponent parried just in time, stumbling back a few steps from the force of Felix's blow. "Ungrateful shrew, you would protect this boy?" the man snarled, glaring at Lenore.

Felix saw one of Lenore's shoes on the floor a foot away, and realized that the man had stumbled because Lenore's shoe managed to find its mark. Maybe God would grant him a miracle after all. _If only I wasn't so exhausted. I don't think I can keep this up._ Felix knew he should be using his opponent's distraction to his advantage, but it was all Felix could do to stand there and try to get his breath back.

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"I'll deal with you shortly," Envy hissed, turning his attention back to Felix.

_You'll deal with me now!_ Lenore rushed over to Rosalyn, stealing the bow and an arrow before Rosalyn could protest. Lenore had always been a failure in gym class, never good at running or catching or throwing or anything physically inclined. Until they taught archery. She just had a knack for it. Out of her entire class, she had been the only one to hit the target on her first attempt, and she had managed to land her arrow in the inner red circle.

She quickly placed the arrow, lifted the bow as she drew the arrow back, and took aim. Praying for divine intervention, she left it fly. Of course, Envy had resumed his battle with a rather haggard looking Felix, and a moving target is rather easy to miss.

The arrow sailed behind him, landing on the floor a few moments later with a clatter. But it had come so close to grazing him that Lenore was encouraged to try again. Grabbing another arrow from Rosalyn's quiver, she ran forward a few feet, knowing that closing the distance between her and the target would increase chances of actually hitting him.

Lenore had his heart in her sights. _Right between the shoulders,_ she thought, her fingers slipping off the bowstring. Just before her fingers cleared it, however, someone grabbed her from behind, and her grip on the bow slipped, causing her arrow to go off target.

Envy cried out when the arrow pierced his right shoulder, not realizing that he had been spared. Felix threw a wild strike at his opponent, but Envy parried. It was a sloppy parry, but effective enough. Envy was left-handed, not right, so the wound wouldn't directly affect his ability to duel.

Lenore ripped herself free from the person behind her, vaguely realizing it was Ember. Without any arrows, the bow was useless. Tossing it aside, Lenore darted forward. If she could get her hands on the arrow in his shoulder, she could twist it, cause him so much pain that Felix would be able to catch his breath. This madman, this cruel awful monster who had tricked her and drugged her, didn't deserve mercy, and if she had to maim or kill him for her own safety, so be it.

The man was so absorbed in his sword fight that he didn't hear her approach. But just as she was reaching out for the arrow in his shoulder, he quickly stepped aside. Warm liquid splattered Lenore's face and kimono, as Felix, eyes glazing over, began to fall forward. There was a telltale gash across his throat, covered in crimson. Lenore began to scream uncontrollably, realizing she was covered in his blood.

Her screams were cut off when she was roughly jerked out of the way of the falling corpse. The strong, left arm was wrapped around her upper torso, just under her breasts, and a bloodied sword was almost dangling from the fingertips of her captor. "I wonder if you'd be so kind to hold that for me, mademoiselle," he inquired politely, as though all that had happened were normal, everyday occurrences.

The hilt was pressed into her right hand, and she took hold of it, staring at the crimson blade stupidly. It all seemed surreal…it could just be a dream, a nightmare. And there was no harm in a nightmare, because it wasn't real. _You'll wake up any minute now, sweating yourself silly and close to tears._

Envy let go of her, reaching over his right shoulder with his left hand and wrenching the arrow out with a grunt. The moment he had removed it, he snapped it in half and threw it disdainfully on the floor.

_Wake up, Lenore, wake up!_ Deciding it couldn't hurt her because it was a dream, Lenore pinched herself on the arm holding the sword. Sharp, stinging pain laughed at her, and she tried to scream. But her voice wouldn't cooperate, seemed to be stuck in her throat.

Felix lay dead in front of her on the marble floor, a pool of blood quickly growing around him. The sword in her hand rid itself of a few drops of his blood, somehow managing to look proud of its horrible misdeeds. It was deftly snatched from her fingers by a black gloved hand, returned to its sheath now that it had served its purpose.

Envy – _No, Erik_ (she must call him by his name, lest she increase her fear of him by referring to him as anything else) – grabbed her arm and dragged her up the stairs to the central landing. Her eyes stayed on the fallen man who had battled to protect her against an inhumanly strong monster. Stopping the trap door, green flames flared up around them as they plunged back into darkness, and Lenore lost consciousness.


	21. Chapter 21

So, I decided not to do my homework just to spend the time on the fic. Don't tell my professors…glances over her shoulder expecting to see angry professors ready to bludgeon her with text books

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Erik gently placed Lenore in the bed, then removed the blood-stained kimono. He was tempted to feel guilty about staining her with the blood of his murder, but he reminded himself it had been her own fault. Had she just stood off to the side and let him deal with Felix in his own way, she wouldn't have had to suffer being drenched in blood. _And I wouldn't have been shot in the back…_

As he washed the make up and blood from her face, he wondered what had possessed her to become so violent with him. He fully admitted he had frightened her by telling her that she was just a plaything, but surely that didn't justify physical violence.

When he finished cleaning her off, Erik pulled the new black velvet sheet and crimson comforter up to her shoulders, brushing a few strands of hair back into place before taking his leave. Out in the drawing room, he began tending to his own wound. Of course, it was in an awkward position, so he would need Lenore to stitch it up for him when she was awake and firmly back in control of her faculties (obviously she was slightly insane, probably from spending so much time with that damned Deville). The most he could do for his injury right now was bandage it to the best of his ability and have a brandy or two.

Two hours later, Erik was in his chair before the fireplace, considering a severe increase in the amount of brandies when he heard the door to his bedroom open, just a crack. _I didn't expect her up this early._ "Please, feel free to join me, mademoiselle," he invited, gesturing to the sofa. "You are not restricted to one room in my home." He had made sure to make a point of saying his home, as he wasn't sure she was quite stable enough to be reminded it was hers as well.

Lenore slowly picked her way into the drawing room, finally perching on the end of the sofa farthest from him, looking ready to stand up and bolt at any moment. "I'm not giving you any money for mass production of your drugs, and I won't let you experiment on me anymore," she said firmly after a few moments of silence.

"I beg your pardon?" Erik responded after a moment. Had he heard her correctly?

"Don't play innocent with me! I know the truth now. You were testing a new hallucinogen on me before selling it to the public," she snapped. "You're just a mortal man, like anyone else, and you tricked me. But I know the truth now, and I'm not going to let you use me anymore."

Erik began to chuckle, but stopped quickly; it hurt to laugh. "Forgive me, but wherever did you come up with that ridiculous story?"

"The doctors told me," Lenore said loftily, as though that automatically proved her right. "They did scans, you know. And when my brain scans came back distorted, they realized it had to be your new drug. I had to take all sorts of meds in the psych ward before they were sure I was safe enough to be in normal society."

"They put you in an institution for mad people?" he asked softly, his temper flaring.

"I was ranting about you being the Phantom of the Opera, of course they put me in there! White padded room and all. Thank God they did, or else I'd still blindly believe you," she retorted.

His hands gripped the arms of his chair tightly. Those damn fucking bastards, locking away his beautiful Lenore, shoving drugs down her throat to keep her pacific, so that she was floating through reality on drug-induced highs. "What was the doctor's name?" he inquired. As soon as he got the name of that knave, he would rid the earth of the slime.

"What do you care?" Lenore shot back. "I demand that you return my clothes and anxiety pills at once."

_Trying to change the subject, I see._ Erik just now realized that she had come out of the room wrapped in the blanket. _As if I haven't seen you in your underthings…_ "I will do no such thing. Firstly, the kimono is badly stained and will require a good cleaning before it is presentable again. Secondly, I will not have you taking drugs to make yourself blissfully unaware of reality."

"Stop trying to trick me!" Lenore shouted. "Return my things and let me go or I'll…I'll…I'll kill you!"

"If anything, I'll die laughing," he remarked, smiling at her absurd threat. Lenore chose that moment to jump up, rushing towards the front door. She reached it and began pushing and pulling on the handle, trying frantically to get out. "It doesn't open unless you unlock it, and I'm quite sure you don't know how to operate the mechanism that serves as my lock." She began searching for the mechanism, but unless she was well acquainted with his inventions, she'd never find it, much less figure out how it worked. "Please, have a seat. And do sit closer this time; I won't bite you." Once again, she perched on the edge of the sofa, only an inch closer than she had been before. "Unless, of course, you ask me to." That took her further away by an inch and a half.

Lenore sat there, tightly holding the blanket around her frame and he realized she was genuinely afraid of him. She had seen him kill now; knowing he killed people and seeing it right before her eyes were two separate things entirely.

"Would you say that you're in a stable state of mind, ma petite?" Erik inquired.

"Well, I'm probably suffering a slight anxiety attack, but for the most part, yes," she replied, spitting out the words reluctantly.

He slipped into her mind easily. _They lied to you, ma petite._

"No," she murmured, grabbing her head with her hands.

_You're not a victim of a hallucinogen._

"No," she said, more firmly this time, giving her head a little shake.

_I am who you once believed me to be, and everything that transpired between us truly happened._

"NO!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face before she collapsed on her side on the sofa. "I'm not crazy, I'm not. The scans"-

"Only natural, for I've been in your mind many times. It does have effects, you know," Erik said, pulling himself up out of the chair with a wince for the pain in his shoulder.

"But they told me I was getting better, that the drugs were helping," she argued, still crying as he came to kneel beside her.

"It was being separated from me that changed those scans, nothing else. Your mind returned to its normal state, if you will, because it wasn't being manipulated every day," he explained. "I'm sure you experienced a good deal of headaches the first week?"

She nodded, sniffling as her tears continued to soak the sofa. He stroked her hair gently, and Lenore lifted her head and looked at him for a brief moment before throwing herself against him, burying her face in his right shoulder to continue crying. Erik grunted softly; of course she'd pick the wounded shoulder.

Erik needed to calm her down; he needed her to pull herself together so she could sew up his shoulder. Remembering the day he'd turned on her laptop and listened to her music (he had hoped to ease the ache he felt in her absence), he began to sing.

Oh, my love, my darling,  
I've hungered for your touch  
a long, lonely time.  
And time goes by so slowly  
and time can do so much,  
are you still mine?

Rather than slipping into her mind to relax her, he used his voice for that purpose. He hadn't used his voice to manipulate anyone after Christine, and he was surprised how easy it was. Lenore's tears had stopped, and her breathing was slowing. If he didn't stop now, she'd be asleep before he finished the next line.

"Lenore, will you do something for me?" he inquired, breaking the trance his singing had slid her into.

"What?" she asked, pulling back a bit.

"I need you to…tend the wound in my shoulder," he replied, not sure how to mention it without making her feel guilty.

"Okay," she consented. Erik removed the leather coat and the green shirt as he retrieved a needle and proper thread. When he sat on the couch, she unwound the bandages he'd used to stop the bleeding.

"Make sure you pull the thread tight," he instructed, placing the needle and thread in her hands and turning his back to her.

"What?"

"Pull the thread tight," he repeated.

"I can't!" Lenore protested.

"You do know how to sew, do you not?" Erik sighed. Good Lord, if the woman didn't know how to sew…Women always knew how to sew, she had to have learned at some point.

"Yes, but I've never stitched skin before!" She took a deep breath. "I never played doctor as a kid, never entertained the idea as a career possibility, and there's no way in Hell I'm sewing your skin back together."

"Do you know how to treat infection, then? Because if you don't close the wound, it will get infected," Erik pointed out. "And if you are incapable of treating the infection, I'll end up running a rather high fever until the infection is finally treated, which could be quite some time, as Darius is going on holiday and won't be back to visit until Christmas."

"I could go for help," she suggested.

"By the time you realize I require medical assistance, I won't be coherent enough to tell you how to open the door, ma petite," he informed her.

"Well, why don't you just go to the hospital and have a professional take care of it right now?" Lenore proposed, desperately looking for a way out.

"Surely I don't have to remind you that I just committed a murder?" Erik nearly snarled. How could she even suggest a hospital when he was wanted for homicide?

"Oh," she muttered softly. Apparently she hadn't thought of that. "Well…I've got money, we could buy their silence…"

"So you would bribe someone to do this for me instead of doing it yourself?" Erik scolded. "You caused it in the first place, if you can recall, and now you must take responsibility for your actions."

"But…I don't want to," she whispered.

"We don't always do things because we want to do them, but because we have to do them," Erik said patiently. "And you have to do this."

Lenore whimpered occasionally as she threaded the needle and tied a knot on the end of the thread. She had the needle about an inch from his skin, then closed her eyes with a grimace, turning her head and preparing to begin work.

"I would appreciate it if you actually looked at what you're doing instead of sewing blindly," he requested. Slowly she opened her eyes. When the needle pierced his flesh, she made a pained squeak, as if she'd stuck herself instead.

"I'm sorry," she repeated endlessly as she continued to close the wound. "I hate stitches!" she declared as she bandaged the wound. "I'm never doing that again! If you get yourself hurt in any way, I'll let you bleed to death first!"

"I'll take great pains to avoid another injury then," he replied sarcastically.

"You should be in bed," Lenore said.

"Whatever for?"

"I just performed surgery, thank you very much, and you should be resting now! Go to bed," she commanded.

Erik just shook his head; he didn't take orders from her. He stood, determined to sit in his chair before the fire rather than go to bed. She was sure to want to sleep tonight, and he was sure she wouldn't feel safe lying next to a murderer.

Lenore leapt to her feet and grabbed his left arm. She gave a slight tug in the direction of the bedroom door, a determined fire in her eyes. Erik, somewhat weaker from blood loss and pain, (not to mention somewhat exhausted from the whole evening in general; it wasn't every day he participated in a duel) felt himself budge an inch in the direction she wished him to go.

"Alright," he said as if it was a terrible inconvenience on his part to do as she wished, trying to make sure she didn't realize that she could have dragged him to bed at the moment.

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Lenore saw him to bed, tucking him in for once. She blew out the candles and returned to the drawing room, determined to have another look at that door. Perhaps in her panic, she had missed something obvious and in plain sight. Or perhaps that was how he chose to hid it; who would look for a hidden mechanism right before their very eyes?

An hour later, she was sprawled out over the black sofa, admitting quite ruefully that the door had defeated her. _Damn him, whoever he is. I just can't be sure. Is he a man who's just drugged me? Or is he an immortal who's taken me as his own, who can get into my head and mess around with me?_

_Does it really matter? If you do figure it out, will it change how you feel about him? Will it keep you from wanting his arms around you? Will it satiate your need for his kiss? Will it stop your body from lusting after him? Admit it; you're already thinking of going in there and lying next to him._

_No, I'm not. And even if I was, I know I can't. He's got a wound, I don't want to jar his shoulder in my sleep and hurt him._

_Whoever said you had snuggle up against him?_

_If that's all the help you're gonna be, you can just shut up...I don't want to hear that logic crap, I get enough of it from him._

_It's not my fault that you don't use your common sense._

_Didn't I tell you to shut up?_

_No, you said I could shut up, which I assumed made it optional._

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"Erik," Lenore's voice whispered in the darkness. "Erik, are you awake?"

"No, I'm sound asleep," he replied sarcastically. She had woken him in the process of opening the door and walking over to the bed; she just made so much noise with every single movement. "What do you require?" He sat up in the bed, wincing slightly as his shoulder reminded him that it was injured.

"I heard a noise," she said nervously. "Coming from the wall the fireplace is on, in the living room."

It took him a moment to piece things together. Someone had surely called the police, and now one of them must have had the terrible luck of falling into his torture chamber. It was connected to the guest bedroom that Christine had slept in, that Erik refused to let Lenore into except in an absolute emergency. "Well, if you hear the noises again, yell at them to be quiet," he informed her, easing himself back down in the bed. He had never been quite as exhausted in his entire life as he was now. At least, that's how it felt.

"But…but…what if it's a ghost and it comes out of the wall and attacks me?" she inquired, stringing all her questions together in one, run-on sentence.

"If it comes out of the wall, sternly inform it that Erik will have no nonsense from any ghosts in his house and that it'd best leave you alone, in peace, if it wishes to remain down here," Erik said, holding back a yawn.

"What if it's an animal?" Lenore persisted. "An animal isn't going to listen to that."

"Quite frankly, I'd be surprised if a ghost listened to that," he murmured. "Whatever the source of the noise, I assure you it won't bother you. If that was the thing's intention, it would have done so already."

"But what if"-

"If anything jumps out of the wall to attack you, Lenore, I trust you'll have the good sense to run from it."

"What good does running do? You locked the damn front door, I won't be able to get away!"

"You could always come into here," he pointed out tiredly. "The door has the traditional form of a lock, as you may have noticed, and you could lock the door on your assailant if you merely turn that little brass key in the lock."

"That won't do any good if it's a ghost," she muttered.

"Erik is the only ghost under this building, he promises you that," he sighed. "You sent me to bed, but I can't very well get much rest with you pestering me."

"Oh, my bad," she whispered, apparently just now realizing her mistake. "Um…I'll just…sit out there…and wait…for whatever it is to attack me and leave my bloody carcass on that nice carpet of yours."

"I'm much obliged," Erik replied. "After all, if my carpet must be stained with something, at least it's your blood instead of a fine wine."

"Just for that, I'm pouring all the wine out onto the carpet," Lenore grumbled, already halfway to the door.

"I hope you are prepared to drink brandy with the evening meal then."

"Smartass," she insulted him as she pulled the door shut behind her, leaving him in blessed silence once again.

_She's difficult, that one. And strong. She'll be alright for a day or so on her own. _Erik knew right now that he was far too exhausted to even think of getting up for the next twenty four hours. It would be surprising if he didn't sleep the clock around two or three times. _And by the time I'm up, anyone in that chamber will be dead. I'll have to be discreet in disposing of the body; it wouldn't do to have her finding out about my little…forest. She's just too delicate right now. _He drifted off to sleep moments later.

When he awoke to the sound of the door swinging open, Erik groaned inwardly. He would probably have to go out there and hold her hand to reassure her everything was alright. She crept over to the bed, managing to make enough noise to effectively rid him of any lingering remnants of sleep. Of course, she was trying to be very quiet, but his cursed exceptional sense of hearing made sure that he heard anyone coming a mile away.

"Erik?" Lenore inquired softly. "Are you awake?" Maybe if he didn't reply, she'd go away. "Good," she whispered. He felt the bed shift and knew she was climbing in.

"So if I were awake, you wouldn't sleep in this bed with me?" he inquired casually.

Lenore jumped about a mile, propelling herself off the bed quickly. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," she mumbled apologetically, quickly running from the room and pulling the door closed behind her.

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_Why did he have to be awake! And why did he have to ask that question? Bloody man!_ Lenore stalked the length of the living room repeatedly, trying to figure out what to do now. She couldn't sleep in the same bed as him. Not because of her uncertainty as to who or what he really was, but because she had witnessed him murder someone. No one in their right mind would get in bed with a murderer. _Well, technically, since you're right-handed, you're in your left mind. So that means you can get in bed with him._

There had to be another room to this house, or how else could she possibly be hearing sounds from the wall? _It could be that rat…come to think of it, I haven't seen him since returning…_ Lenore began running her hands along the wall opposite Erik's room, hoping to find a hidden crack, hinge, or knob for a door to this other room that she felt had to exist. _Why does it have to exist? This is Erik's house; it's got a drawing room, with a small kitchen and dining area at the back of that room, a bedroom, and adjoining bath. What else could he possibly need? Certainly not a guest room._

Finally, Lenore's fingers stumbled across an invisible handle (at least, it was to her eyes). She tried to open the door, but found it wouldn't budge. _Shit, Erik must have locked it. Of course, he wants me to sleep in that bed with him. Maybe I could find the key…_ Looking around the room, Lenore decided that the most likely place to put a key was in one of the two boxes on either end of the mantelpiece. She snatched up the first one she came to, and pulled on the lid. But it too was locked. _No sense trying the other one, he'll have locked it for sure._

The bookcase seemed as good a place as any to continue her search. Lenore began replacing the casket when she noticed the knickknacks on the mantel for the first time since being down here. _My things…why did he put up my things after I ran away? Why didn't he smash them into pieces? Wasn't he furious with me? Why are they set up here? Why not just on random surfaces between this room and the bedroom? They're the center of his mantel, which means he found them important. But why?_

Closer inspection of the mantel showed it to be coated with a layer of dust. Even the caskets had a thin blanket of it. But her little collectibles lacked any dust entirely, as if they had been frequently handled in her absence. _He's obsessed with me._ That thought seemed to come out of nowhere, a terrified whisper. The half of her that argued anything against Erik was silent, for once. It was probably too stunned to reply. _He's obsessed with me,_ her mind echoed dully.

It had all been an elaborate plan from the very start. From the very first time she had heard the whispered word 'Lenore', Erik had wanted her down here with him. Reflecting on the moment she entered the Opera House after purchasing it, when he first called her name, she realized now that he had said her name with a lover's caress. She hadn't known at the time, hadn't believe she'd heard anything but a voice her imagination conjured up because she was alone in a large building. It had been innocent at first; the first night, he had probably only entertained the thought of seeing her. The second night, it had escalated into a desire to touch her, just a simple touch and nothing more. But it continued to grow, urges to make her dresses, wonderfully convenient reasons to meet with her secretly, and finally that perfect situation that would justify keeping her underground with him.

_Ember and Rosalyn…he must have bullied them into having that party and inviting me. Somehow, he knew I'd come for the ball, even if I didn't have any intention of moving back into the Opera House. And he knew he could easily spirit me away to his house on the lake if I just showed up for the ball._

Lenore sank to her knees before the fire. _Was this how you felt, Christine? This instinctive fear of a man who's so possessed with the thought of having you and your love that he'll do anything, no matter how sick or perverted that course of action may be? But…if you felt the fear, then…did you feel the lust, the greed? To have a lover who would literally do anything to please you…it's so tempting. I know that if I told him I would marry him, I could have anything I wanted. He would stop at nothing to fulfill every little wish if I so much as hinted at it._

_It's wrong! Wrong! That's pure selfishness right there, and greed. Because the more you get, the more you'll want. And greed leads to envy for what others have and wrath towards any who might take your treasures from you. Couple those two with greed and lust, and you'll have covered four of the Seven Deadly Sins. Sloth might even come into the picture; why should you bother to do anything if your husband will do it for you?_

_I'm a horrible, wicked creature. How can I lust after a murderer? How can I even think of using his affections for my own personal gain? I'm a despicable, disgusting, sinful little creature!_

_-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

"I'm back with Erik," Lenore crowed happily. She quickly changed her tune after she saw the authoress' glare. "Um, I mean, uh, Erik…confusing me…bad idea all around."

"That's better," the authoress said with an approving smile. "Can't have you getting out of character."

"I happen to like her first comment much more," Erik coldly informed the authoress.

"Who asked you?" the authoress grumbled.

"Well, anyway, we're getting away from the point of this little scene," Lenore reminded the other two. "Our authoress would absolutely love it if you left her a review."

"Maybe she'd finally stop feeling depressed about the lack of audience feedback and quit stuffing her face with chocolate," Erik added.

"Silly Erik, chocolate's euphoric. It increases sexual appetite and can lead to higher elation during orgasm," the authoress explained.

Perfectly interpreting the authoress' meaning (and sinful intent), Erik took a wary step away from her. "Don't come anywhere near me, woman," he snarled, preparing a Punjab lasso should the authoress move so much as an inch.

"Those two are just weird," Lenore muttered worriedly. "But yeah, please leave reviews, it'll make us all so much happier."


	22. Chapter 22

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Erik slowly opened his eyes. Lenore hadn't bothered him again, and he had slept quite soundly, so he was feeling very refreshed and ready to be back on his feet. Erik dressed himself before going out; he would have preferred to just lounge about in a pair of slacks but he knew he had to dispose of the corpse in his torture chamber soon.

When he opened to door to the drawing room, he instantly spotted Lenore curled up on the rug in front of a cold, dark fireplace. She was huddled under his cloak, shivering horribly. He remembered how cold his house could get if the fire wasn't kept going, and the floor was a poor choice for a sleeping surface in this cold.

Crouching down beside her, Erik couldn't help but smile. Lenore looked so helpless; just like Christine, she needed someone to take care of her. He put his hand to her forehead, which confirmed his suspicion that she was running a low-grade fever.

_Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance,_ he thought. She truly had been gone from him too long. They had given her cause to doubt him, to doubt her own sanity. And now she didn't know what to believe. _Why believe the world above? You know humans can't be trusted. But you can trust me; I've never lied to you._

Erik set about lighting a fire, and once he had that task accomplished, managed to gently move Lenore from the floor to the armchair close by using only his left arm. It would only be a few more days before his right had fully recovered; as soon as Lenore was better, she'd be removing the stitches.

Half an hour later, Erik had dragged the body of a policeman out of the torture chamber and stuffed the carcass in a niche in the tunnel he had named the Cursed Catacomb. After all, only those who were truly damned had the unfortunate luck of stumbling into his kingdom. It seemed the authorities had yet to uncover this portion of his realm, or else the many corpses would have been taken up for identification.

It was on his return to the house when Erik came across a female police officer. She had fallen into a crevice and, from the looks of it, had broken a leg. Now the question was as to whether or not he left her there to die. He had never killed a woman who was completely helpless and injured, but just ignoring a damsel in distress didn't make him guilty of murder. It wasn't his fault that she'd come down here, nor should he be held liable if she hurt herself.

"Monsieur!" she called, spotting him standing at the edge of the precipice. A multitude of jumbled pleas for help came echoing up to him, informing him that her flashlight was dead and she couldn't seem to contact any other officers.

"Before you accept my help, mademoiselle, it might interest you to know that I'm the murderous criminal you were sent to find," he informed her coldly in their native French.

"If you intend to kill me, please make it quick," she whispered.

"I have no intention of killing you, woman," Erik hissed. "Either you accept my help, or you choose to stay here and die. Now make up your mind, I haven't got all day."

After a moment of silent contemplation, the woman reached up her arm. Mentally sighing about this newly acquired burden, Erik stretched out his left arm and hauled her out of the crevice she had landed herself in. If he wasn't much mistaken, it was one he had cleverly hidden for the specific purpose of snaring intruders. _It would seem I quite defeat my own purpose if I help my victims._

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Lenore was shaken roughly awake, frightening her half to death. Her fear only increased when she saw a strange woman was the one shaking her.

"Mademoiselle, 'as 'e 'urt you in any way? 'e 'asn't drugged you, 'as 'e?" the woman inquired.

"Leave her be! She's ill!" Erik snarled, hurrying over and yanking the woman away.

"Who's that?" Lenore demanded. _Stop it! You're not going to feel jealous!_

"Officer Victoire Vasser," the woman introduced herself. She yelled a string of French curses when Erik shoved her down on the sofa, which Lenore soon realized was because of a broken leg.

"I'll not have that language in my house, especially from a lady," Erik warned as he located the herbs required to create effective ether.

"He's really serious about that too," Lenore muttered bitterly. "Washed my mouth out with lye soap. Lye!"

"Inhale this," Erik instructed the woman moments later.

"Vat is it?" she inquired suspiciously, her emerald green eyes peering warily at the handkerchief he offered.

"It's similar to laudanum," he explained. "I need you sedated before Lenore sets the fracture."

"Before I what?" Lenore protested. "Look, I've played doctor more than enough already. I don't know how to set a broken bone!"

"I can't do it with only one arm," Erik snapped back. "Either you set the bone, or we dump her outside and leave her to die. I'll let you make the decision."

"Stupid, annoying man," Lenore grumbled, giving him a dark glare. "Fine, I'll do it. But if I screw it up, I don't want to hear a single complaint about my medical incapabilities."

"Zis is very encouraging," Victoire said sarcastically under her breath before obediently inhaling the ether.

Moments later, Lenore was worriedly preparing to kneel beside the sofa and set a fracture that she had no idea how to set. Everything she needed to apply a splint afterwards was on the floor next to her. "Okay, what do I do first?" Lenore inquired nervously.

"Close your eyes and take a deep breath," Erik replied.

"I can't do this with my eyes closed!"

"You can't do it if you pass out from hyperventilation either."

Lenore counted to ten so she wouldn't punch him. _Why does he always have to think of everything? And I wasn't hyperventilating, I was just breathing really fast. _She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, thinking fondly of beating Erik to make herself feel better.

She cried out when she felt Erik's presence inside her mind. It was far more intense than it had ever been before. "Don't fight me, Lenore," he instructed gently. "I agree that you aren't properly trained to set a broken bone, so I need to work through your body."

Lenore concentrated on just breathing deeply, trying to ignore the feeling of Erik being inside of her. Slowly, as his presence grew more powerful, she felt herself losing control. A few minutes later, she had no control over her body whatsoever; she was just a guest inside of herself, for Erik filled her almost entirely.

She watched through her own eyes as Erik used her hands to deftly find the point of fracture and set it. It was so strange and unnerving to watch her hands do something without her, to do this because of a thought that did not come from her, yet somehow originated in her brain.

As the splint was being placed, Lenore couldn't stand it anymore. She was suffocating, trapped in her own body without control. She began struggling, trying to push Erik out. A quick shot of pain through her consciousness effectively quashed her rebellion. _I'm not finished yet,_ Erik snarled in her mind.

When Erik finally finished tending to the officer, Lenore waited impatiently for him to leave her. _C'mon, you're done now. You don't need to hang out here anymore, let me have my body back._

Lenore found herself standing up and turning to face Erik. _Let go of me!_ Moments later, he was using her body to remove the stitches she'd put in. _Why won't you leave? I can do this myself, I don't need you to do it for me. I've had plenty of stitches removed in my time, it won't be difficult for me._

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Erik couldn't make himself let go now that he had control. He knew he should, but power was one of Erik's greatest loves and he infrequently experienced it in the cellars of the Opera House (especially when in between owners). So he found another little task to use her for that he could justify; removing his stitches. After he had her finish that task, he left her where she was as he concocted a little remedy to reduce her fever. Knowing that it was rather bitter in taste, Erik added a bit of honey to make the taste almost bearable.

With great resentment, Erik released Lenore from his control. The loss of that power was tremendously painful, but he couldn't keep her like that forever. No, he wanted her to be here, to be herself, not some mechanical follower.

Quick, long strides brought her over to him, and she raised her hand to slap him. Grabbing her wrist, he pressed the cup into her hand. "Drink this, then go straight to bed," he instructed.

"If you didn't wear that mask, I'd slap you with my other hand," she growled. Because, of course, if she tried to slap him with her left hand, she'd only connect with the porcelain mask, which would hurt her more than it would him. Not that he'd even let Lenore's hand connect anyway.

"For once, it seems my face works in my favor," he muttered dryly.

It seemed Lenore was determined to hurt him in some manner, however, because she kicked his left shin. It was actually quite pathetic; there was hardly any strength behind it at all and it caused her to wobble, having issues balancing on a bad leg. She somehow managed not to spill a drop of her medicine, and she thrust the cup back at him the moment she regained her balance. "I'm not drinking this, I don't know what it's for or what it's made from!" Lenore sniffed. "And my mother said never to accept food or drink from strangers."

"It's for the fever you're running, child, and it's made from herbs. As far as listening to your mother's advice…well, I'd have to be a stranger for that to apply, now wouldn't I?" Erik countered.

"I should kick you again." There was a brief pause while she considered it before opting not to. "I'm still not taking it," Lenore persisted, still waiting for him to take the remedy from her hand.

"If you won't take it yourself, I'll pour it down your throat and send you to bed with a spanking like the spoiled little girl you're acting like," Erik threatened.

"You wouldn't dare," Lenore said dismissively.

Erik could remind her that he'd washed her mouth out, but then again…

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Lenore stomped to the bedroom door in a huff. He had poured that nasty concoction down her throat and proceeded to spank her, just as he had said he would. It was not only painful for her backside, but for her pride as well. Receiving a spanking. At her age! Just as she was about to slam the door shut, Erik spoke up from his chair by the fireplace, the scene of the crime as far as she was concerned.

"Stop," he simply said. She complied, trying to hold back the tears caused by her stinging derrière. "Turn around." She did that too, wishing she had the guts to just walk on into the bedroom and ignore him. He gestured for her to come back, and she stomped across the room, not caring if she appeared the least bit sulky. "Now, perhaps you would like to try that again, without stomping like a petulant child this time," Erik suggested, though it was more of a command than anything else.

"No, I would not like to try it again," Lenore informed him, feeling strangely courageous.

"Well, I suppose you don't have to. But I'm afraid I won't tolerate someone tromping around my home in such a fashion without punishment," Erik replied. "Since a spanking seems to do little good, I could always try the Black Snake whip."

Lenore almost told him he wouldn't dare, but she remembered all too well what happened last time she said that. "I've reconsidered," she said reluctantly. "I'd love to try again." She made her way quietly back to the bedroom, shutting the door gently behind her. She climbed into the bed moments later and buried her face in a pillow before screaming her frustration.

_It's your own fault. Why couldn't you just take the medicine? What's the worst that could have happened? You ended up drugged? Drugs don't hurt, they just make you sleepy. Anyways, not like he'd drug you. Didn't we establish that he's not some druggist when he took over your body? I mean, it definitely convinced me that he's the Phantom of the Opera. Feel free to have your own opinion, of course, but the evidence is entirely in favor of my decision._

_I hate you,_ she informed the half of her that was pro-Erik.

_No you don't, silly. Admit it, you aren't anti-Erik. You're just anti-trust. You expect everyone in the world is out to get you. I'm surprised that you haven't hired someone to test your food for poison yet. You should trust Erik, you know. I mean, I trust him, and look at me. I'm nowhere near as unhappy as you are._

_Of course you're not unhappy; you're insane! Trust him? He's kidnapped me, held me against my will, pries into my thoughts and memories, kills innocent people, and took control of my body! And you think I should trust him?_

_Yes. You failed to mention that he's never been less than a proper gentleman to you, his kisses make you feel like you're in heaven, he stood up to your mom, and he gave you that amazing finger job. Just take me seriously for a moment here. You. Love. Him. You. Want. Him. Simple as that. _

_No…no, I don't…do I? …I do…oh God, I do. But it's wrong! He's a villain! You're not supposed to fall in love with the villain._

_Why not? And anyway, he kinda killed the hero, so it's pointless to wait for a prince in shining armor to come swooping in on a white horse. And did it ever occur to you that heroes are murderers? They kill the bad guy, after all._

_So…I love him. What good does that do me? None. What do you want me to do? Go out there and say "Erik, I love you" and hope he says he loves me too?_

_Well, don't just go out there and blurt it out. Try to use a little tact. Something like "Erik, there's something I need to tell you" or "I need to talk to you about something Erik"._

_But…go out there…now…and tell him?_

_Yeah, why not? Be courageous. I mean, the worst that can happen is he says that he hates your guts and would rather give you a long painful death than hear you say those words again, leaving you heartbroken. And I seriously doubt he feels that way._

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Erik had just learned from Officer Vasser that he had slept for two days when the door to the bedroom was flung open.

"Erik…I…I have something to say," Lenore said timidly.

_Is she actually going to apologize for her horrendous behavior? That would be a first. _"Alright, I'm listening," he assured her.

"Well…you see…I…I…I love you. And if you can't see that, then you're blind. And if you don't feel the same way, then you're just stupid and I hate you," she finally blurted out. She quickly retreated into the bedroom, yanking the door shut behind her.

Erik spent countless minutes just staring at the door in shock. _What did she say?...Did she just tell me that…she loves me? _No, it wasn't possible. He had to have misheard, or maybe he was still asleep. Women didn't love him. It was a scientific fact that women never fell in love with anyone like himself. _But…she just said…and she said it before too. She loves me?_ There had to be something wrong with his hearing. His mother never loved him, nor had Christine. Hell, that poor girl in Persia wouldn't even lie with him to save her own life. No, he must clear this up immediately. He wouldn't get his hopes up for nothing.

"Please excuse me, Mademoiselle Vasser," Erik muttered, standing and heading for the bedroom.

"Oui," the woman replied with a slight slur, still suffering from the effects of the ether.

The room was dark, of course, for he hadn't lit the candles earlier this morning when he awoke and Lenore had been sent to get rest, so she hadn't bothered with it either. She was lying in bed with her back to the door, probably petrified after making such a confession. _If that's really what she said._ He approached slowly, making sure not to walk in his normal silent fashion. Just light noises to make sure she suspected he was there.

"Lenore," he began softly when he reached the bedside, "I think you may be…misinterpreting your feelings for me." She moved, as if to roll over and dispute his claim. "Don't speak, just listen for a moment. Perhaps what you feel is a friendly compassion toward me, or perhaps you merely commiserate with me upon the cruelty of society. If it's anything more, it's probably the love you would have for a father or a brother. Christine had daughterly affections toward me, you know, and that's most likely what you feel. You just didn't recognize it for what it was, that's all. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm not upset with you for it."

The silence was deafening. It was torture, to stand there and wait for her reply. Minutes drifted past in this quiet punishment, but if it meant Lenore was truly thinking over what he said, Erik didn't mind suffering the pain.

"Lenore?" Erik inquired softly when he still hadn't received an answer for a good ten minutes or more. He leaned over her…and found she was sound asleep. _What kind of woman tells a man she loves him and then just goes to sleep? _Erik shook his head; he'd gone and said all that for nothing.

Erik sighed as he brushed stray strands of her lustrous lucks back behind her ear. Now this would linger on and make things awkward for him. Why couldn't she have stayed awake long enough to discuss this properly?

_If only you knew how much it pleases me to have you back, my darling. Even if you never marry me, even if we don't become intimate, I need you to be here with me, to share this lonely existence. It's such a comfort to know that there's someone here, someone I can see and hold. But you won't be here forever. You'll grow old and die one day. Would you be willing, I wonder, to suffer immortality with me? It's only forever; that's not long at all. I don't want to lose you._

_Je t'aime Lenore._

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"Just so you know, for those of you out there who aren't French-speaking people, Je t'aime means I love you," the authoress explained.

"Erik said he loves me? Woot!" Lenore exploded with joy.

"You're supposed to be asleep," the authoress complained.

"How can I, when you reveal something like that?" Lenore retorted, dancing about in exuberant joy.

"Anyway," the authoress sighed, "just wanted to remind you readers to review, remember you don't have to log in or be a member, cuz I accept anonymous reviews." The authoress then proceeded to knock Lenore unconscious with a frying pan. "I told you, you were supposed to be asleep. If you won't do what I say of your own free will, I have to take matters into my own hands, and then it ends up bloody and/or painful. My silly little heroine..."

Erik came into the room and, finding Lenore unconscious, glared at the authoress suspiciously. "What have you done now, woman?" he hissed dangerously.

"Oh, nothing," the authoress replied with a nervous laugh, hiding the frying pan behind her back. "Don't forget to review, people."


	23. Chapter 23

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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Victoire Vasser slowly found herself coming out of her stupor. Her leg hurt like hell, but they had trained her to ignore pain at the academy. She was sprawled out on the sofa in the drawing room of the enemy. A good cop would have decided against his help and yelled at the top of his or her lungs in case any other officers were close by and might be able to catch the man.

But Victoire couldn't let herself die like that, in some dark hole suffering pain and agony, dying from dehydration or starvation. She was about two months pregnant, and this was to have been her last assignment before taking maternity leave.

Pulling herself together, Victoire slowly got to her feet and dragged herself over to the front door. She wasn't surprised to find it locked; he wouldn't want the other officers waltzing in. Intense scrutiny of the door revealed no visible lock, so Victoire set about running her fingers over and around the door, trying to locate the hidden mechanism.

God knew what the man was doing to that poor girl in the other room, but Victoire had analyzed the situation and knew that it was most important to get herself out and bring officers back rather than to try to take the victim out right now. Each passing minute that failed to provide results was a minute lost, a minute that the monster could come back into the room and restrain her.

"Mademoiselle, you really shouldn't be up," the monster's voice sounded behind her. Victoire spun around to face him. Not that it would make any difference. He'd taken her gun and with her broken leg, self-defense was pretty limited. She gave him a stern glare, hoping that might intimidate him enough to leave her alone. "Now is that any way to treat someone who's rescued you, seen to your wounds, and graciously allows you into his home?"

"You've murdered a man and abducted a woman, Monsieur. I'm afraid that far outweighs any kindness you've shown me," Victoire informed him.

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Erik examined her, his mind probing hers for every scrap of information he required. "I'll let you leave, now if you wish, but there are a few conditions," he said casually.

"I don't negotiate with criminals," Officer Vasser stated.

"I'm not asking you to negotiate, I'm telling you the rules," Erik replied. "And there's really only one that I'm most concerned with. Promise me your unborn child, and you may go."

"Never," she gasped, indignant at the very suggestion.

_You'll promise me that child before the day is out. _Erik needed that infant; immortality made you infertile, and even if Lenore did not agree to becoming immortal, they would never be able to create a child together. Though he could have arranged things in the officer's mind so that she would return with the child after it was born, Erik preferred to have her agree to giving the baby to him. It was so perfect, it seemed as though it had been arranged by Fate. He desired a child to raise with Lenore, and he stumbled upon and saved a pregnant woman.

"Not to be rude, but you are in debt to me," Erik pointed out. "If I hadn't helped you, you and your child would be dead."

"Even if I agreed, my husband wouldn't," Madam Vasser said.

"Your husband…he was an officer such as yourself, was he not?" Erik inquired. _That's why her name sounded so familiar…_

"He is," Madam Vasser replied.

"Oh no, was, Madam. I'm afraid he's dead; he fell into my torture chamber, you see. I was actually returning from burying him when I found you," Erik told her. He knew it wasn't exactly the best way to break the news, but there was no point in beating around the bush.

"You lie," the woman snarled.

"I assure you it's the honest truth. But if you don't believe me, perhaps this will help." Erik tossed her the pocket watch he'd taken off the body; he always took his victims valuables, since there was no sense in leaving precious trinkets in graves.

"My Auguste," she said softly, tenderly fingering the watch as tears made paths down her cheeks. "No, it can't be true. It can't."

Erik gave her a few minutes to let reality sink in. He had no place comforting her; even if he had known the man was going to be a father, he still would have killed him. When it seemed she acknowledged the truth, he spoke. "The child will only be a painful reminder," he informed her softly. "You cannot support and raise this child on your own, Madam. So give it to me; I'm quite wealthy and could give it whatever it needs."

"No, my baby is all I have left of Auguste," Madam Vasser declared.

"Would Auguste have wanted you to raise the child in poverty? You must consider what is best for the child, Madam."

Erik decided the woman needed time to think, because he couldn't expect her to make such a monumental decision in the blink of an eye. She moved back over to the sofa, sinking down upon it in her grief and clutching the watch as if it could somehow bring her husband back to her. He sat in his chair, staring into the flames and contemplating names for the child, imagining raising it with Lenore.

Hours flew by as Erik fantasized about living a normal life. Well, as close to normal as he would ever come. A shrill scream from the bedroom quickly roused him from those wonderful daydreams. He rushed to the door and flung it open in a panic; what could possibly have happened to Lenore in his room?

She was kneeling on the bed and, in the pool of light created by the few candles Lenore had lit, an ugly, large spider sat on the floor by her side of the bed.

"Don't worry, I'll put him out," Erik hastened to assure her, coming forward to snatch up the poor thing. He was rather fond of spiders and made it a point not to kill them.

"You're not going to catch it in your hands, are you?" Lenore squeaked fearfully.

"How else do you expect me to catch it?" Erik replied, scooping the insect up in his hand.

"EEEEEEEEE," Lenore squealed. "You're touching it!"

"Hm, so I am," Erik remarked uninterestedly. "Don't tell me you're afraid of this harmless thing." He moved the hand with the spider a bit closer to her.

"AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!" she yelled, practically throwing herself to the other side of the bed. "Don't bring it any closer, you idiot!"

"I expect you want me to kill it then?" he inquired sadly.

"No, I want you to dress it up and take it out for the evening," Lenore answered sarcastically.

Erik's temper flared. He had associated himself with spiders in his thoughts before, and felt they had the right to live peacefully like any other creature. Christine had once asked him to kill two spiders for her, and eventually, he had done so. But he would not kill these poor creatures for another girl, not again. "What do you have against it?" he snarled. "What has it done to you?"

"Just look at it! It's as creepy as hell! It's got those eight legs, and the way it moves…if it crawled over me…" she shuddered.

"Several thousand have crawled on me in my time, it's not as awful as you seem to think," Erik snapped.

"It is as awful as I think! You can't possibly tell me otherwise; a woman's skin is twice as sensitive to touch as a man's!"

"Don't be ridiculous; it can't be that extreme."

"A woman's skin is about twenty five percent thinner than a man's!" Lenore argued.

"Then you must only be a fourth more sensitive to touch then, beca"-

"Don't tell me how sensitive I am or am not, you bloody arrogant man! You're not a woman, you don't know how it feels!"

Erik knew he wasn't going to win this one, so he decided to change topic. "Regardless, I'll not kill spiders merely because you don't like them," he informed her.

"Oh really? I see how it is. You'll kill humans because you don't like them, but you won't kill a simple insect for me! Fine! Put the damn thing down and I'll kill it myself!"

Erik turned on his heel and hurried from the room, anxious to get the pitiable little thing away from Lenore before she could harm it. She tried to follow, but she was much slower than he was and he managed to set it down outside the front door and slip back inside before she caught up.

"Let me out! I have to kill it! If I don't, it'll just come back, I know it!"

"You don't have to kill it, mademoiselle, you just want to," he hissed.

"Yeah, maybe I just want to. Like you wanted to kill Felix," Lenore snapped back. "You got to have your satisfaction in that matter, but you won't let me have mine."

"The situations are very different," Erik argued. "I killed that ignorant boy because he tried to take what is mine. I seriously doubt the spider tried to take anything from you!"

"I am not your possession!" Lenore yelled. "Damn you for being a man!" She turned on her heel and stormed over to the sofa, plopping down angrily beside Madam Vasser.

Erik sighed and sat in his armchair by the fire. Any minute now…

"Oh, what the hell did you do to her?" Lenore demanded, putting an arm around the woman's shoulders for comfort.

"Nothing that need concern you," Erik replied.

"Well let's decide it does concern me," she commanded. "What did you do?"

"My Auguste. 'e killed my Auguste," Madam Vasser sniffled.

"You heartless bastard," Lenore hissed. "How could you do that?"

"I didn't kill him; he fell into the torture chamber. I can't control that sort of thing, and if he hadn't been poking around in my domain, it wouldn't have happened," Erik snarled back. "I cannot be held accountable for that man's actions. Perhaps he should have chosen a career with less occupational hazards when he found out his wife was pregnant!"

"You can't have my baby," Madam Vasser wailed, grabbing Lenore tightly for protection.

Lenore looked at him with outraged eyes. "You want her unborn child? Who the hell do you think you are, Rumpelstiltskin? That's sick and cruel. You kill her husband and then try to take her child as well. What right do you have to rob people of their loved ones?"

"Madam Vasser, you have been nothing but a thorn in my side," Erik said softly. "You are no longer welcome in my home. I'll see you out." He stood and ripped the woman from Lenore's grasp. Lenore leapt up and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him. Without a second thought, he backhanded her.

Lenore let go, and Erik hurriedly left with the policewoman. When he had taken her to a place he was sure she would be found, he reached into her mind and erased all memory after she fell into the crevice, then slipped her into unconsciousness. Returning home, he found Lenore had retreated to the bedroom.

_Why did you hit her, Erik? You should have handled this whole thing rationally, not lost your temper. But there's so much she doesn't understand. She doesn't know we could never have our own children, that I only wanted the child so that we could have a family. You're such a fool! She tells you she loves you and you slap her hours later. Why, why, why did I do that? She can never love me; I'm a monster, a terrible, awful monster._

Erik went over to the cabinet where he kept his herbs for remedies and dug around until he found what he was looking for. The almost-forgotten prick of the needle was pure bliss. The morphine that flowed into his veins relaxed him, made everything melt away. It had been a very long time since he had last used this drug for recreational purposes, but it was as wonderful as he remembered. The morphine let him forget that he had ruined everything with Lenore, and that was welcomed with enthusiasm.

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After a few hours, Lenore decided she might as well go back out into the living room. Maybe Erik was feeling somewhat calmer now. _I should change out of this dress first…_ She knew she was just delaying going out there, but it couldn't hurt to change clothes. The crimson dress was discarded on the floor, and Lenore began pawing through the chest containing her dresses and Erik's clothes. _No, not the blue dress…don't want to wear emerald green either…or the purple…blech! I don't want to wear any of these dresses._

A few minutes later, she opened the door a crack, peering out into the living room to see where Erik was before creeping out in one of his shirts. It fell to mid-thigh, and Lenore was happy she didn't have to worry about concealing her legs or else she would have had to figure out how to keep a pair of his pants up. _It feels so good to be back in a big baggy shirt._

It appeared that Erik was in his chair, and she tiptoed out. _Now, I'll just patiently wait for him to apologize…After all, he started the whole thing, I'm not at fault for anything._ She was about to sit down on the sofa when she noticed something on the floor by his chair. She picked it up, and saw it was a syringe. Erik was out like a light in the chair before her.

Her fist began to tighten on the needle, anger filling her. _So you think shooting yourself full of drugs makes it all better? It doesn't solve the problem, it only makes it go away for a short time. I don't understand you. How can you do it, with me in your house? You know some jackass shot himself full of meth, got in a car, and fucked me up for life, and you have the audacity to sit there and inject drugs to make yourself feel better about hitting me? _Lenore threw the needle into the fireplace, the glass shattering on impact.

As she looked at him, though, Lenore found it harder and harder to be angry. She knew how nice it was to be on the drugs. She'd had a good deal of morphine in the hospital, and it was always blissful to be able to make the pain go away with a simple push of a button. And as the pain disappeared, you slipped into a dreamless slumber. It was so wonderful, and that's how you became addicted. It felt so damn good…She had been addicted herself. Then the hospital had taken it away because she couldn't stay on it much longer without risking her health.

There had been nights when she couldn't sleep, nights when she wished she had just a bit of morphine to help with the insomnia. There had been days when she wanted to forget everything. Times when she just wanted a drug to miraculously make everything better. How could she condemn him for feeling that way sometimes himself, for giving in to it? If she'd had access to morphine, she would've given in to temptation. Why should she expect more from him than she did from herself?

"What a pair we make, Erik," she whispered as she settled herself in his lap. "We're either arguing or drowning in passion, switching between those two as though we were bipolar. We're just too similar, I think. Both full of pride, with quick and very fierce tempers. And neither of us knows how to trust, can't believe that we could be loved for who we are."

Lenore looked up at his face, and that porcelain mask seemed to laugh at her. "_You don't know him at all,_" it seemed to chuckle at her. "_You've bared everything before him, there's nothing he doesn't know about you. But he hasn't given anything back to you. You know nothing, nothing at all. Not what he hides behind the mask, not what he hides in his heart. You're an ignorant little girl._"

_I could take it off, right now…he'd never know. _Her hand reached up, and her fingers trembled as she touched them to the white porcelain. Her hand slowly cupped the mask. _Why don't I have any courage? I could get away with it right now, he's in a drugged stupor. But I can't seem to bring myself to do it._

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Erik didn't bother to open his eyes when he came to himself after four hours of blissfully drugged, dreamless sleep. Four hours of eternity squandered away…not that it mattered; when you had forever to live, you could afford to waste a few hours on the most pointless things.

Of course, he knew Lenore was in his lap, her small, fragile, warm body snugged up against him. And he also knew that her left hand was on the mask. Her thumb gently traced the edge of the white porcelain down his nose and along his mouth to his jawbone.

Erik couldn't move. If she realized he was awake, her instinct would be to pull away, and she might inadvertently snatch the mask off in the process (or even knock it off). _She's going to take it off any minute now, despite whether or not you're awake. What does it matter if you move?_

_Fine, I'll move._ With his inhuman speed, he snatched her hand away from his face. "If your intention was to take it off, you waited a minute too long," Erik informed her as he opened his eyes.

"I've had my hand on it for an hour," Lenore replied. "So maybe I waited fifty nine minutes too long."

A whole hour? She'd been sitting on his lap with a hand on the mask for a full sixty minutes and she hadn't removed it? He'd been so out of it, he never would have known. "Why didn't you?" was all he could get out.

Lenore shrugged. "Dunno. Didn't feel right."

"Perhaps you could try to express the same thoughts in proper sentences?" Erik suggested, annoyed by her poor grammar.

She shrugged again, ignoring his suggestion. "Anyway…no more drugs," she said after a moment.

"With all due respect, it is not your concern," he told her. It was his body (not that he was doing it any real harm, one of the few perks of being immortal), and it was his choice if he wanted to get high every now and then.

"It's bad for you. Don't you know what you do to your body with drugs?"

"Being immortal changes a few things; I assure you I'm not causing myself any harm."

"Fine and well. But…you're hurting me," Lenore said, getting up and walking a few steps away. Only now did he realize she was wearing one of his shirts. It was far too large, and she swam in the white silk that fell to mid-thigh on her. The image reminded Erik of the first time he'd seen her, in that baggy white dress shirt and ankle-length black skirt, preparing to step down into the cellar. Although he had to admit, he much preferred her without the skirt on.

"However can I be hurting you?" Erik said, starting to feel somewhat upset. His addiction should not cause her any pain, and he worried that if she could prove his love for morphine hurt her, he would have to give it up. "You should adore it, when I'm comatose from the drugs. It gives you unlimited freedom in my house, makes sure you have nothing to fear for a few hours. Christine was perfectly pleased when I was so ill I couldn't even get up off the couch."

"You're hurting me by not thinking of me. You weren't thinking about me when you shot yourself full of whatever it was, no matter what you say. You were thinking about you, about your pain. What would if happen if the police came while you were under, hm? They would have arrested you and 'rescued' me. Do you think I want to see you put on trial, see you through glass in the prison because they consider you too dangerous to even let me in the same room with you? And just because Christine was too afraid of you to want you healthy doesn't mean I am. Do I look like some stupid, simpering little chorus girl who's absurdly afraid of someone who loves her?"

"The police would never find their way into Erik's house, unless it was through his torture chamber," Erik said softly. It was the only thing he could respond to easily. He wanted to defend Christine from Lenore's horrible words, but Christine was long dead, and his love for her should be as well. Though it was said you never get over your first love. He knew if he defended Christine, Lenore would be wounded. She would think he wanted a frightened little girl who was totally dependent upon him, and she knew all too well that's not the type of person she was. So Lenore would put on that mask, would play at being what she thought he wanted, and Erik could never bear to do that, to make her pretend to be someone else just to gain his love.

"Okay, so maybe that was a bad example," Lenore admitted. "What if I tried to cook something and lit the house on fire? I would have burned to death, because you would be unable to wake up and get me out safely. Not to mention how badly burned you'd end up, unless being immortal has somehow made you flame retardant."

Erik managed to suppress a chuckle at her last comment; this was far too serious a topic to be laughing. "I trust you have enough skill to make yourself a meal without catching things on fire," he said.

"You really don't know anything. I lack culinary skills entirely. I was making tea one time, and I lit the tea bag on fire. How many people are that inept at handling a stove?" Lenore argued.

"In the event that you might manage to light anything on fire, I would assume you'd be intelligent enough to put it out before it became a serious threat to the house," Erik replied, an amused smile on his face. _However does someone manage to light a tea bag on fire?_

"Well, if I light something on fire, I might not think of that because I'll be panicking," Lenore defended herself, crossing her arms and looking rather sullen; he was winning her little argument.

"I'll make certain that you aren't even remotely hungry before I inject the morphine next time," he promised.

"Morphine? It's morphine you use?" In those few little words, he heard the desperate desire of an addict who had been ripped off of the drug and wanted it back more than anything else in the world. "…Maybe…if you don't mind…I could have some too next time…you know, just to make sure I don't do something stupid and cause a huge catastrophe…"

"Perhaps it would be best if I listened to your original advice and stop using it," Erik decided. He knew all too well what it would do to her, a mortal. He wouldn't have her die prematurely on him. Of course, if he had his way, she'd accept immortality and therefore never leave him. If she agreed to spending the rest of time with him, she could have all the morphine she wanted.

"Good idea," he heard her say with false cheer. "Best if you just throw it all out in the lake."

"And let the siren have it for free? I think not," Erik replied.

"Oh, yeah. We wouldn't want her getting high, we need her to gobble up any cops that get too close to the lake," Lenore muttered.

Erik stood, a thought occurring to him. He walked past her to the mantelpiece and deftly opened the casket on the left.

"How did you open it without a key?" Lenore inquired.

_So you tried to open the caskets at one point; somehow that doesn't surprise me._ "I open and shut whatever I please with ease. I was once known in Persia as the trap-door lover," Erik informed her. "Every lock finds itself powerless in my hands; many locks in this place will open only for myself." Leaving the little bronze scorpion in the casket, he retrieved the valuable he had left under the scorpion's guard. "I believe you dropped this, mademoiselle."

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She stared at the heart charm with the chipped black pearl, dangling from his fingertips and catching flickers of firelight. The chain had broken when she was running away from him more than a month ago. Lenore hadn't bothered to waste time trying to find it in the dark; she'd been far too busy escaping and too afraid of Erik's possession of her to care if she lost it.

"Yes, I did," she finally said. They stood there, Erik apparently waiting for her to take the necklace back. _How can I take it back now? I broke it…badly…and I didn't even care. I don't deserve to have it back, Erik._

"I know it's badly damaged. I'll get you a new one, if you like," Erik offered, obviously thinking that she wasn't taking it back because of the state it was in. "Or you could come along and pick out a replacement yourself."

"No," Lenore replied. She didn't want a new one, and she didn't want to pick out a different necklace either. _Don't you understand? If I accept expensive jewelry from you, you're going to think this is getting really serious. You'll bring up marriage again, and I'm not sure I'm ready for that. There are so many things about you that I don't know, Erik. And I can't promise to be your wife until I know everything._

Minutes stretched out between them, until Erik finally placed the necklace on the mantel. "I will leave it here for you," he said softly.

_I'm sorry to hurt you Erik, but you have to understand I just can't…It's not that I don't love you. I need to know where you stand, how you feel about me. And I need to know you before I can make a decision._

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"Hey all. Just reminding you to review again…it seems to help a bit…not much though," the authoress said, managing to sound a good bit depressed. "And, not that any of you really care, but that whole tea bag fire incident…that's real, I actually did that myself."

"That's quite pathetic," Erik remarked.

"Oh shut up, we can't all be as perfect as you," the authoress grumbled.


	24. Chapter 24

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

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"Hi Mom, nice to see you again," Ember lied with a smile. Her mother had just entered the managers' office, absolutely livid and glaring at the chief of police.

"You said the man was gone," Mrs. Parker reminded the man, ignoring her daughter's greeting entirely.

For his part, Chief Jetter was sweating nervously under her stern gaze. "Please Madam, he wasn't there last month. We searched the cellars extensively and came up with nothing except that cave he must have been living in before."

"Obviously you didn't search hard enough!" Mrs. Parker accused.

"Madam, I assure you"-

"Your assurance isn't good enough!" Mrs. Parker snapped. "The last time you assured me of something, I let my daughter stay over here, and now she's been kidnapped!"

"That's not really his fault," Rosalyn tried to point out. "I mean, he can't control Erik's actions."

"As the chief of police, it's his job to ensure her safety!" Mrs. Parker argued.

"Madam, my men are searching for your daughter even as we speak. If they're down there, we'll find them," Chief Jetter declared.

"Like you found the man last time?" Mrs. Parker replied sarcastically.

"Mrs. Parker, please, you don't have to be so mean to him," Rosalyn defended the poor man. "He's doing the best he can."

"Well his best just isn't good enough!"

"Then what do you propose?" Ember shouted, fed up with her mother's complaining. "If you don't like the way they're going about things, suggest a better course of action! Let's not just sit here and bicker with each other about what's happened. We can't do anything about what's in the past, so let's try to focus on the present."

"We'll send in the navy SEALs, they managed to bring her out last time," Mrs. Parker decided.

"One brought her out," Ember corrected. "The other five ended up in a mental institution."

"Then we'll send in the one who rescued her before; obviously the others weren't stable enough to perform a rescue mission in the first place," Mrs. Parker said dismissively.

"Get out of our office," Rosalyn said. "I'm sick of you. Just get out and find someone else to complain to. You have no business in this at all. Lenore's an adult woman, she doesn't need her mommy to come save her every time she gets in trouble. This is Lenore's building, and Ember and I run it. As it's our business, anything concerning police and rescue missions has to be cleared through us. You serve no purpose in being here except getting in our way and being a general pain in the ass."

"Rosalyn Kendall! How dare you speak to me like that! I most certainly will not leave!"

"Chief Jetter, I'd like to file a restraining order on Mrs. Parker," Rosalyn informed the man. "I find she is repetitively harassing myself and my co-manager. I would be very grateful if you would have someone escort her off the property and make sure she does not come within twenty feet of the Opera House."

"I'm sure that can be managed," Chief Jetter quickly agreed. Calling an officer in over walkie talkie, Chief Jetter was half-way through text-messaging the restraining order to his secretary back at headquarters.

"You can't do that!" Mrs. Parker said in disbelief. "Lenore needs me…Don't keep me away from my baby."

"With all due respect, Mrs. Parker, Lenore's not a baby anymore," Rosalyn replied.

"I'll keep you apprised of the situation," Ember promised as the officer came in to take her mother out.

Shortly after her mother left, a female officer with her black hair pulled back in a braid was led in, looking very much bewildered. "Chief Jetter, 'ave you 'eard anything from Auguste?" she asked immediately, her green eyes full of worry.

"I'm afraid not, Victoire," the man replied sadly. He was good friends with the young couple, and had been responsible for the two of them hooking up. Victoire was like a daughter to him. "Can you tell us what happened down there?"

"I remember searching for any sign of life down zere…zen I find myself coming to with Leroy 'anging over me," she said. "I do not know 'ow I acquired Auguste's watch or 'ow I broke my leg, much less who tended to it."

Chief Jetter looked at Ember hopefully. "No," Ember said. "Lenore doesn't know how to doctor. Not that extensively."

"You don't think this Erik helped her, do you? Why would he help the enemy?" Chief Jetter argued.

"Why are you asking me?" Ember snapped. "Why am I expected to know the twisted inner-workings of his mind?"

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"So…where's Christoph?" Lenore asked to break the awkward silence that had fallen between the two of them.

"Out entertaining a lady friend," Erik replied, coming over to stand in front of her.

"Well, I guess he's having fun," Lenore commented nervously. _Why did I have to make everything awkward by not taking the necklace? _

"He must be, or else he would've returned by now," Erik said dismissively.

"Aren't you worried about him out there with all those police?"

"Not particularly."

"You know, I think you like that rat more than you like me. He's allowed to do whatever he wants, and I'm a prisoner in this place," she remarked.

Erik took her face in his hands and tilted it up to his own, hurt in his eyes. "This place is a prison to you?" he inquired fearfully.

_Be honest with him. It'll only hurt him more if you lie to spare his feelings._ "Erik…I have no freedom with you," she began. "I'm expected to do whatever you say, like a slave. I can't leave of my own accord. I'm not allowed to look through certain things, like your boxes on the mantel or that locked room. If you tell me to go to bed, I have to go to bed immediately or else you'll take me to bed and force sleep on me. You do whatever you wish with me. How can I not feel like prisoner?"

"Forgive me. I did not realize I was holding you against your will," Erik whispered. "I thought…I thought you liked being with me."

"That's not what I meant!" Lenore snapped. "I do like being with you, I just don't like not having any say in my life. I get up and go to bed when you tell me to, I eat when and what you tell me to, I wear what you tell me to, I go where you tell me to. I'm surprised you haven't tried telling me when I'm allowed to breathe. My life is run entirely on your schedule."

"Why is that such a problem?" Erik asked. "I do not make ridiculous requests. I merely wish what is best for you. It's unreasonable for you to stay up until eleven o'clock at night! Nine o'clock is a perfectly acceptable bed time, and seven is not an ungodly hour of the morning to be awake. Regular meal times are good for you, and I merely have you eat healthy. What is the injustice in that? Surely you didn't like wearing those ridiculous clothes of yours, all too loose or too tight. Those baggy clothes made you look like a pauper in hand-me-downs, and those tight clothes give the impression of a prostitute. Lastly, there's no point in telling you when to breathe, your natural survival instinct would have you breathe even if I told you not to. Not that I ever would try to control that anyway."

"But I like staying up till eleven and getting up at ten in the morning. I like eating unhealthy food, I like baggy clothes!" Lenore informed her sharply.

"Just because you like something does not mean it is good for you," Erik replied. "Take morphine, for example."

"No, I will not take anything for example. You're just trying justify my enslavement!"

"How quickly we went from prisoner to slave," Erik said, his voice hard and dangerous. Anger and a slight touch of lunacy glistened in his eyes. "So you think yourself a slave, Lenore? Awfully daring of a slave to confront her master, isn't it? Perhaps it would be best if this little slave took a moment to think about how kind and merciful her master is."

"Where was your mercy when Felix became incapable of fighting back? Where was your mercy when Auguste stumbled upon your torture chamber? Where was your mercy when you came upon all the countless innocent people you killed?"

"They weren't slaves; they were annoying insects, pests that must be gotten rid of," he responded.

"My master is a murderer," Lenore said softly. "Whether he'll admit it or not. He doesn't know mercy."

"Au contraire, my pet. Have I punished you for running away? I think not. I allowed that transgression to pass. Most would call that merciful."

"Most people would have applauded me for managing to escape and felt deep remorse that you managed to catch me and bring me back!" she retaliated.

Erik's eyes studied her intensely for a moment. "You wish for freedom? Then earn it, girl," he snarled. "To have freedom, there must be trust between us. I'm afraid that your little escapade during the past month rather diminished what trust I had for you, and it is up to you to regain that trust."

"How can you make that my fault? You scared me! Calling me your doll, and getting inside my head and changing my thoughts to center around you!" Lenore shouted angrily.

"When I changed your thoughts for those few brief seconds, I was making a point of how generous I am that I do not rob you of your free will," Erik growled. "And I called you my doll because that is what you are. My fragile, porcelain doll. I can't relate to you how I tire of handling you gently lest I break you."

"Stop it! I'm not your doll, I'm not just some object!" Lenore cried, slapping him with every ounce of strength she could muster.

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That did it. The hell with restraint. Her fiery spirit was so damn seductive. Erik threw her to the floor, dropping down on top of her. She squirmed beneath him, protesting her harsh treatment. _That's it, little one. Fight me._

"Erik, stop it!" she shrieked as he began ripping his shirt off of her body.

"Why would I ever want to do something as stupid as that?" he replied. Finally, the shirt was off. Lenore had neglected to put on a brassiere and his hands slid over her breasts, caressing them delicately.

Lenore struggled beneath his hands, trying to push herself up into a less vulnerable position. She was unwittingly adding fuel to the fire. He pressed his upper body down on her, attacking her neck with his teeth, aggressive love bites to satisfy the feral state he was slipping into.

"Erik," she gasped. "Don't." It was a weak protest, lacking heart. "I'm supposed to be married first."

"Who told you that?" he asked, moving the attentions of his mouth up to her ear.

"God did," Lenore replied.

"Many people have sex before getting married; I don't think it'll be a problem," Erik said casually.

"But, I'm supposed to be married first," she repeated.

"Then marry me," Erik whispered in her ear.

"Right now? No church, no preacher, no witnesses, no certificate, no ring, no gown?" Lenore inquired. "No reception after, no presents? No dancing? No pictures?"

"That's all superfluous," Erik replied. "And a reception only serves to delay the wedding night."

"Gee, do you only wanna marry me for sex?"

"It's certainly one of the perks."

"You're rotten," she chuckled.

Erik's mouth slowly made its way back down her neck to her collarbone, while his hands slid down towards her hips to remove her underwear.

"Stop," she protested again. "We're not married."

"Fuck marriage," he hissed, taking her right breast into his mouth and sucking gently.

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"Oh God," Lenore moaned when he switched over to her left breast. The thought of just letting him take her right there on the floor was tremendously alluring, and she could hardly come up with a single reason as to why they shouldn't have sex. Except that they weren't married.

_Why are we doing this? Didn't we promise ourself that we'd wait? That the first time we shared this with anybody it would be our husband? That it would be special?_

_We're doing this because it feels good. We've waited long enough. If we marry Erik later, then technically we did share this with our husband the first time. And I'm going to lose my virginity to the Phantom of the Opera, you don't get any more special than that._

_Hmm…good point. Never mind, forget we even doubted it…_

"You know, this isn't really fair," Lenore muttered. "I'm not wearing anything, and you're still wearing everything."

"Would you care to remedy that?" he inquired with a devilish grin, coming up off her breast for air.

Lenore began ripping at the buttons on his frock coat, eager to get at least one layer out of the way before his mouth decided to entertain itself on her naked flesh once again. The moment she had discarded it on the floor, Erik was half finished with removing his waistcoat; obviously she wasn't moving fast enough to suit him.

He hadn't even finished sliding the waistcoat off before Lenore began tugging his shirt out of his trousers. (She had never understood why anyone bothered tucking their shirt in.) _It's about time I got to take all of his clothes off_. The moment his arms slipped out of the waistcoat, Lenore yanked the shirt over his head.

A gasp left Lenore's throat before she could stop it. In the process of taking off his shirt, she had accidentally knocked the mask off. She had only assumed he hid a deformity that was less than appealing, but she was not prepared for the truth. The skin on the right side of his face was stretched tightly across the bone. The transparency of the skin allowed her to see with great clarity the pulsing veins that ran beneath the skin, to see the white skull underneath. Without the mask, the flesh beneath his eye drooped slightly, and the eye sunk back into the socket a bit.

Erik only stared at her, probably trying to gauge her reaction, or maybe he was hoping he would wake up and find it all to be a bad dream. Neither one of them moved, neither one said a word. The two stared at one other. Minutes passed in this silence, the whole thing seeming quite surreal. If Erik wasn't dreaming, she had to be. This couldn't have happened…Erik couldn't look like this under the mask. _And why not?_ A small part of her mind tried to scold her for not saying something to reassure him that she was not repulsed.

Breaking the silence with an animalistic cry of grief, Erik scrambled off of her, hurriedly throwing himself into his bedroom. The door slammed shut behind him and she heard the key turn in the lock. The sobs followed almost immediately, those cries capable of being produced only by a shattered heart.

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Everything had been going so perfectly. Lenore was finally ready to give herself to him, and then _this_ had to happen. It was ruined now, completely ruined. Erik didn't even bother trying to stifle his sobs. He lay in a crumpled heap by the door, collapsing from grief just as he finished locking the door. In its own twisted way, his mind tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him that Lenore wouldn't leave, couldn't leave, and it did this using words of his own from more than a hundred and twenty years past.

"_…When a woman has seen me, as you have, she belongs to me. She loves me for ever…I am crying, crying for you, Christine, who have torn off my mask and who therefore can never leave me again!...As long as you thought me handsome, you would have come back…but, now that you know my hideousness, you would run away for good…So I shall keep you here._"

_Keep her here, Erik. She cannot escape you, she is not permitted to leave now that she has seen. She doesn't have a choice anymore. She is yours for eternity._

Grief suffocated Erik, made thought difficult. He began to lose himself in drowning despair, and he tried desperately to pull things back together, to make sense of things in his mind. When he finally recovered himself, he rose and wiped the tears from his face. "I shouldn't have left her alone out there," he muttered to himself. "The poor thing is too delicate to be left alone for so long."

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Lenore finally managed to get over her shock and covered herself with Erik's frock coat. She was about to fish the mask out of his shirt when the door to his bedroom suddenly swung open.

"It was rather rude of me to depart so quickly," Erik remarked. "I hope you can forgive me, Christine."

_Christine? Did he just call me Christine? Oh dear god, unmasking him must have pushed him over the edge of sanity. _"Erik," Lenore began tentatively. Should she play along or try to get him to realize the truth?

Erik quickly strode over, found the mask, and deftly replaced it to its former position. "There, that makes you a bit more comfortable, doesn't it?" he said, giving her a small, comforting smile.

Lenore was at a loss for words and merely nodded her head in what she hoped looked like an agreeable fashion.

"Oh, how dreadful of me. It's past seven o'clock and I haven't given you any supper yet," Erik said, sounding very displeased with himself for not being on top of things. "Is there anything in particular you'd like?"

"Uh, um," Lenore stammered. She was very much taken aback by the sudden change of emotions from Erik; mere moments ago he'd been sulking in his room, now he was trying to be every inch the perfect host. "Maybe we could…go out to eat?" she proposed. She needed to know how stable he was; if he agreed to going out, she knew there was something seriously wrong with him.

"Oh, no, I'm afraid that wouldn't do at all," Erik replied brightly. "We wouldn't wish to have another run-in with your little Vicomte in the Bois, now would we?"

"But Erik, I really would like to go out to dinner with you," Lenore lied. _He thinks I'm Christine…I'll just have to play along until I figure out how to make him see me._

"How sweet of you, Christine," he said. "If only I could believe you weren't trying to run away."

"No, Erik, I would never leave you," Lenore said, hoping it was the right answer. Maybe if he heard what he had wanted to hear from Christine all those years ago, he'd start to come back to himself.

"It won't do any good to lie to me."

"Erik, I"- she began, but stopped short when she realized it would be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "I've got a head ache. I think I'll retire early tonight."

"Oh, if you're not well…" he said absently. "I'll make something for that head ache of yours, go ahead and ready yourself for bed." He gestured towards the locked door in the wall, the room Lenore hadn't been in, and turned to go prepare the tincture he had promised.

"Erik? The door's locked," she informed him.

"How ridiculous of you to lock yourself out of your own room. Honestly, Christine," he chuckled, going over to the door. Moments later, it opened for him and Lenore knew it must be one of those locks that Erik had told her about, that only opened for him.

Lenore walked into the dark room as Erik left to make that remedy. _Of course it's dark, stupid. Did you think he'd leave candles burning unattended in this room? _The dim light flooding in through the doorway revealed very little except that the room was crammed full of paintings, sculptures, statues, compositions, and what appeared to be a few scientific inventions. _He must have been in such a hurry to move into the house that he decided to use this room for storage. Maybe when he comes in and sees all this stuff, he'll_-

"Here, Christine. It should help you sleep tonight," Erik said behind her in the doorway. She turned and took the step towards him, accepting the cup he offered.

_There's no bed in this room…and he hasn't seemed to realize yet…_ "Um, Erik, could I sleep with you tonight?" she ventured cautiously.

Erik stared at her for a moment. _Maybe that did it. Maybe he's_- "And what would people say about it if they found out? Your reputation would be ruined, my dear."

"Who's here to find out? No one would ever know," Lenore pointed out.

"You know as well as I the only place to sleep in my room is the coffin. I doubt you truly wish to sleep there," he said softly.

_Coffin? What the fuck! Work around it, Lenore, just work around it. _"Well, at least let me sleep out here on the couch then, so I'll be closer to you. I don't want to be alone tonight Erik."

"If that's all that's bothering you, I'll find Ayesha. I'm sure she wouldn't mind spending the night with you," Erik replied.

_Ayesha? Who the hell is Ayesha? _"No, Erik…that's not…I want it to be you."

"If you insist upon sleeping on the sofa, I suppose I can't stop you," Erik sighed after a moment, obviously tired with her stubbornness. "I'll get you a few blankets."

"Thank you." _Come back to me Erik. See me. Remember what time you're in, what you are now. _Knowing there was no other choice, she swallowed the herbal mixture; Erik wouldn't let her weasel her way out of taking it after that lie about a head ache. She laid herself out on the couch, still wrapped in his frock coat.

He came out of his room a moment later and proceeded to tuck her in, being quite careful not to touch her. Her eyes could barely hold themselves open, and she began to wonder what he'd put in that drink to make her sleep. She slid into sleep, and all night symphonies and concertos caressed her mind and played through her dreams.

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Erik had put some laudanum into her medicine. He wanted to be sure she would sleep without waking up. Which turned out to be a good thing, as she insisted upon sleeping on the sofa. He still didn't know what was wrong with Christine to have her asking that, for saying that she wanted to be near him. He spent the night playing Gluck, Haydn, Mozart. Anything that was peaceful and tender. His music was far too violent for her; his Don Juan would certainly give her nightmares, and he only wished her to have beautiful dreams.

Erik only realized it was morning when Christine entered his room and drew his attention away from the music he had lost himself in. He stared at her; somehow she managed to be a vision despite her hair being tousled from sleep. But she had a worried look on her face. _What are you thinking, my angel?_

_Angel or lover? Friend or Phantom? Who is it there staring?_ Her voice rang in his mind, an alto voice. But Christine was a soprano. And he'd never heard that tune before. How he had managed to hear her thoughts was beyond him. Maybe he'd made up that response in his mind. There was only one way to be sure. He focused on seeing everything that was in her mind.

With a cry of pain, Christine sank to the floor, clutching her head in her hands. Erik hurried over to her with a string of apologies.

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Erik gently forced Lenore to look up at him, proclaiming over and over how sorry he was. He had plunged into her mind, and she felt as if he had broken a window into her brain, shattering glass everywhere. The pain was so intense, she could only cry silently.

She saw the confusion in his eyes as he looked at her. "Lenore?" he whispered softly. "Oh God, what have I done to you?" He drew her up into his arms, holding her tightly against himself. For her part, she just wept into his shirt, half of her tears from joy at having him back and the other half from the pain in her skull.

Erik quickly took her to the bed, leaving her there while he went out to the drawing room. He returned moments later with a needle in hand. "Forgive me for this, my love, but it's the only way to stop the pain," he whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead. The syringe found its way into a vein in her arm, guided by the hands of an expert, and the familiar rush of morphine swept her away.

It seemed that no time had passed between that familiar rush to when she became conscious of the world around her again. She could hear, and feel, but it seemed impossible for her to open her eyes. Lenore wasn't worried; it had been that way in the hospital, always a real struggle to open her eyes but so easy to just lay there and listen.

Erik was singing softly to her, something that sounded like a French lullaby, while stroking her hair gently. She wanted to move or say something to him, but her precious morphine kept her caged inside an unresponsive body. A dull ache lingered in her head, but it was bearable.

Erik tenderly moved Lenore until her head was resting in his lap. _Hmm…this is kinda nice. We should do this more often. Not the morphine part, just the head-in-lap and tender caresses bit. _He took Lenore's hand and brought it up to his face, running her small fingers over the deformed half of his face.

"It's really not so bad, once you get used to it," Erik said quietly. "Can you believe my whole face once looked like this? And I was without a nose. Really, it's not half so bad as it used to be."

Lenore felt awful. For one thing, Erik probably had no idea that she was conscious enough to hear him, probably assumed that he was talking to a woman who was more comatose than she had any right to be. Then there was the fact that she felt some revulsion towards his deformity. She was ashamed of herself; what with her legs, she wasn't exactly a divinely beautiful being herself.

_I have to let him know I'm awake. But how? I can't move, can't open my eyes, can't say anything. Whoever thought I'd curse morphine one day? Honestly Erik! The one time I want you to be prying around in my head is the only time you don't. _

"I'm sure you wish now that you'd never said you loved me," Erik whispered morosely. "If only you'd known, if only you'd seen…it was dreadfully unfair for you to have such feelings because of an illusion. But perhaps you can still find it your heart to love me…if you would promise yourself to me, I would give you anything you wanted, my love. If you wanted a castle in the sky, I would build you one. If you wished to have the world, I would give it to you. The people would be breathless at the sound of your voice, would fall to the floor weeping with joy at being blessed to see your beautiful face. Anything you wanted would be yours. If you desired it so, I would never take off my mask. Whatever would please you."

A bell rang, and Erik swore under his breath. "Why do they keep ringing at the back door? Can't they at least go around to the front? Not as if I'll invite them in anyway, but it would be more proper, as I haven't invited them to my home," Erik muttered, moving Lenore off his lap and getting off the bed. She heard his footsteps retreat to the drawing room, and the door clicked shut quietly behind him. _The back door? There's another door to his house?_

A few minutes later, Lenore managed to open her eyes and push herself up into a sitting position. _Just another minute or so and I can stand…then I'm gonna find this back door…Why am I looking for the back door? What purpose would it serve? It's probably locked so that only he can open it anyway. Oh well, at least I'll know a bit more of the house layout._

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The angry shouts were so entertaining. Humans were always so outraged when they realized they'd fallen right into his trap. Erik was certainly quite glad that he'd redone the room in bullet-proof glass. The police just adored trying to shatter the mirrors with their guns.

Of course, if he revealed his presence to them, they'd go ballistic, demanding their immediate release. Sometimes it was fun to let them know he was there and listen to their commands. Exercises in futility were quite amusing. But today, Erik decided he'd rather they didn't know anyone else was around until they'd already slipped into delirium.

Naturally, the best laid plans always fall apart.

He heard a knock on the door to the drawing room. _She shouldn't be up yet, she was out cold moments ago. _Hopefully, she'd just decide to go back to bed when she didn't get a response. He'd locked the door, so she wouldn't be able to get in. _Maybe she'll assume I went out to rid my kingdom of a few pests._

"Erik?" she called out.

_Damn._

The officers began calling out to her, pleading for her to do everything in her power to free them. And Lenore, hearing their shouts, quickly realized what was going on. "Erik! Let them go," she commanded, banging on the door with her fists.

"I don't understand what you're complaining for, Lenore," he replied. "It's only a few mice."

"It is not a few mice!" she shouted back. "Those are people, with families, and friends! Let them go, right now!"

Erik sighed heavily. Women were so soft when it came to things like murder. "I'm afraid that's not in my cache of options, chérie," Erik informed her. "If I release them now, they'll arrest me and whisk you away. I was quite under the impression that you were against that."

"There's gotta be more than one way out of that torture chamber, Erik. I'll be damned if they came in the front door, through the drawing room, and voluntarily stepped in there," Lenore argued. "Just tell them where the other exit is and leave it at that!"

"The only exit for them is through death. Yes, it's true there's a door out of there, but it only opens under one circumstance, and in the event that it opens, they would drown." He paused for a moment. "So, how would you like them to die, Lenore? Drowning or slowly drifting into insanity before committing suicide?"

"Don't you dare try to put any of this on my shoulders!" she yelled. There was a brief moment of silence. "Just let them go, please. They don't deserve to die for coming down here, they're only doing the job they were told to do. Can't you have any sympathy for them?"

"I'm afraid it's rather difficult to find compassion for vermin, my little one."

"They're not vermin. They're humans, like me. Would you do this to me? Would you keep in your torture chamber until I committed suicide?"

Why did she have to come up with such a spectacular argument? Damn her for going and making the whole thing personal. "You would never be ignorant enough to fall into my little forest," Erik replied, hoping that he could find a way to get her off track.

"Erik, just let them go," she pleaded. "If you need a reason, do it for me. Do it to show me that you have some capacity for human feeling."

"I'd have to be human for that," he whispered to himself. "Lenore, surely you understand that I can't let them leave here alive. Do not ask me to put my existence on the line for a few mortal souls."

"I'm a mortal soul," she pointed out. "If you won't let them go, at least put them out of their misery. Make it quick and painless. Don't play with them first."

"But mademoiselle, a cat always plays with the mouse before eating it," Erik told her. Having said that, he firmly told himself to ignore her words from this point forward. _This should certainly make for an interesting study. Two poor souls trapped in the torture chamber calling out to a compassionate soul who is unable to help them. I wonder how it will affect the descent into madness…_

A few hours later, the police were crying out to anyone, human or otherwise, who might save them from their nightmare. Usually the madness had already taken hold by this time, but it seemed Lenore's unseen presence helped them keep their grip on reality.

"Can I buy their freedom with my love?" Lenore suddenly inquired. "If I agreed to marry you, would you let them go?"

"You would marry me to save people you've never even met?" Erik said in disbelief. Had it been her sister, mother, or friends, he would have understood. But she didn't know these men. There was no connection. _Are you so kind that you'd sacrifice your life for theirs? _No, he wouldn't marry her like that. He wanted her to give herself willingly, out of love, not because she felt a moral obligation to her species.

"Erik, please," she begged outside the room. "Tell me what I can do to save them."

"Nothing," he managed to spit out. He hated to say that to her, to lie to her in that fashion. "There is nothing you can do."

"There has to be something! Anything. Anything you want. Just tell me what it is you want and I'll give it to you," Lenore promised.

"I will not have you give something that you will regret having given for the rest of your life," Erik snarled. "I will not have it!"

"You can't know that I'd regret it! Tell me what you want," she insisted.

Erik couldn't take her pleading anymore. He would have to go out there and keep her occupied until the police trapped in the torture chamber were dead. Because he would never ask her to give up her chances of Heaven to spend eternity with him, all for those two pests.

The moment he opened the door to the drawing room, Lenore attempted to launch herself past him to help the poor souls of misfortune. He caught her with one arm and pushed her back into the drawing room with such force that she staggered half way across the room, stopping only because the couch obstructed her from going any further. She dropped onto it heavily, and fixed him with a glare that could've melted a diamond.

Closing and locking the door to the guest room, Erik walked over and took a seat next to her. "So, what would you like to do this afternoon, ma chérie?" he inquired casually.

"Save peoples' lives," she snapped back, clearly not in the mood for games.

"Would you like me to tell you a story? Something from my past, perhaps?" he continued as though she hadn't said a word.

The fact that her curiosity was getting the better of her was written all over her face. She bit her lip, probably in the process of trying to decide how long the police could survive in his forest and whether or not that was sufficient time to listen to a story. "Do I get to choose what you tell me?" Lenore finally asked.

Erik studied her for a moment, debating whether or not he should agree to that. _If she doesn't get to choose the topic, she won't pay any attention and will probably try to talk me into letting those men go instead. I suppose it's the only way to get her mind off them. She's bound to ask about Christine, or perhaps my childhood._ "I suppose I could let you pick the topic," he said.

"Tell me how you became immortal."

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"Hello again, readers," the authoress said. "Not that it matters to any of you, but my fish died today. I'm gonna miss that little guy…"

"Aww, it's okay. He was kinda old for a fish, it's not your fault," Lenore comforted the authoress. "Maybe your mother will let you get a dog now that your fish is dead…"

"Maybe. Anyways, I'd love it if you people would review, it would make me feel somewhat better. I'm gonna try to have the next chapter out by the end of the weekend…but who knows...what with the passing of my little fish…eh…"

"You have to finish the next part quickly!" Lenore exclaimed. "I wanna know how Erik's immortal!"

"Why did you let her choose the topic, idiotic writer?" Erik snarled, glaring daggers at the authoress, who proceeded to hide behind Lenore.

"Because she's nicer to me than you are. You always get upset with me for something," the authoress explained, peering over Lenore's shoulder. "So people, review. The more reviews I get, the faster the next part gets done. And I know you're all dying to know how Erik's immortal. It's quite an interesting story."


	25. Chapter 25

I'm skipping classes this morning. I think I might be coming down with something (there's something going around the dorm hall), cuz I'm really tired. Not sleepy-tired, just fatigued. Kinda like when you get the flu fatigued…bah…

And yay! The ruler thingie works again!

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore knew by the look on Erik's face that he hadn't expected her to ask that. But he'd agreed to let her choose what he told her, and if he tried to go back on that now, she'd never speak to him again…well…at least not for a long time anyway. 

"That's not a pleasant story," Erik finally said.

"Oh well. Tell me anyway," she demanded.

Minutes ticked away in silence, Erik staring into the flames in the fireplace, and Lenore staring at Erik. She didn't have time to waste waiting for him to speak. Those men in the other room were dying, and if he wasn't going to tell her what she had asked, there was little point in sitting here when she could be freeing innocent victims. Just as she was about to dash for the door to the guest room, Erik finally spoke.

"I'm sure you've heard of Jack the Ripper," he said softly. "I'm quite personally well acquainted with the bastard."

"Jack the Ripper? What does he have to do with anything?" Lenore said curiously. After all, it was rather odd that Erik would talk about that murderer.

"He's rather grotesque with his murders of course," Erik muttered as an afterthought. "No style or appreciation for the art whatsoever."

"Erik? I thought you were going to tell me"-

"Yes. Jack. It's not his real name. His real name is Hiroshi. What his last name is I don't know, nor do I care to find out," Erik said. "The year was 1870, and I had just returned from visiting Nadir in his flat, shortly after Christine left me. I was dying, terribly weak. I found him sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace.

"Hiroshi was very…interesting. Despite his being a foreigner, he spoke perfect French. Looking at him, I knew I stood little chance if he chose to kill me right then. I swore at him, told him to get out of my house and leave me in peace. He merely stayed where he was, amused by my wrath and all but laughing at my ridiculous threats.

" 'Please, Erik –if I may call you Erik?- I have a proposition for you. I can save you from death, and then help you win your Christine,' Hiroshi informed me, speaking as if we were old friends. I thought to myself that he couldn't possibly know anything about me, that he was some madman who had come to torture me. 'Oh, I know all about you, Erik.'

"It startled me that he knew exactly what I had been thinking. And of course, it only served to quicken my belief when he told me that he was immortal. When I still showed my skepticism, he merely produced a dagger and thrust it through his heart. 'I understand that you cannot trust a stranger making such a statement, but your eyes will tell you what to believe,' he said tiredly as he wrenched out the blade.

"I watched him bleed for a good hour before I knew he had to be telling the truth. No mortal man could survive that long bleeding as heavily as he was. 'Have I bled long enough to satisfy you?' Hiroshi was obviously quite bored with his display of immortality, not to mention how pale he had become and how weak he sounded. I did the only thing I could; I accepted every word he said for truth.

"I began to beseech him to impart the gift of immortality upon me, asking what he planned to help me gain Christine's love. 'Well, naturally, it is your face that offends. So we'll have to fix that, won't we? Not too difficult at all, I assure you. However, you must be certain that this is what you truly want. You must be prepared to give up everything you've believed in. Will you do that Erik? Will you give up everything for that little diva?'

"I will not lie to you, Lenore. I agreed immediately and quite feverishly that I would forsake God himself for Christine's love. 'How little you know,' Hiroshi muttered. 'Alright, the first thing we must do is see to your immortality.' Hiroshi produced a strange collection of herbs and other odd tidbits, detestable things such as ravens' eyes and lizards' tongues, from his pockets. He concocted a potion of some sort. God, it looked like death itself. 'Drink it, Erik, every last drop. You must, to become immortal.'

"I found myself staring at the dark, syrupy liquid, unable to follow through on my earlier promises. When he realized I was beginning to change my mind, he forced the liquid down my throat. After I had swallowed the repulsive stuff, I thanked him –dear god, I thanked that fucking bastard- for helping me. 'No need. It's a human instinct not to want it,' he replied so casually.

"An hour passed, which quite surprised him. 'Much stronger than most mortals, aren't you, Erik?' Hiroshi commented as he held me in his arms like a child, a beloved child. Of course, I was far too weak to protest in any manner. The coldness of death was creeping in, and I was actually quite glad of his warmth.

"When I died, I was absolutely livid with Hiroshi, assuming he'd lied to me. I was standing in the edge of Heaven, waiting in a line of people to be judged by Saint Peter at the gates. Finally, my turn came. I was…so nervous. Hoping that somehow I could be forgiven for all I'd done, that I would be allowed to pass through those gates. Mother was standing just inside the gate, and I assume the man with her was my father. They were both weeping, and I fervently hoped it was with joy at seeing me.

"Saint Peter thumbed through an enormous sheaf of papers, where all my sins were listed out. I could see golden script beside each one, proclaiming me forgiven. As page upon page revealed my crimes forgiven by God, I began to be so sure that I was guaranteed a place in Paradise. The last page seemed to be alright, until I saw the very last line. The sin was listed as Animam Edere Daemon Hiroshi, and it was not forgiven.

"I begged for some explanation as to what that had been, what Hiroshi had tempted me into that couldn't be forgiven. I thought if I knew my crime I could make an excuse for it and be permitted to enter Heaven. Surely the fault was not mine.

"Before anything could be explained to me, I opened my eyes, finding myself back here, Hiroshi muttering to himself in Japanese. When he noticed I was…I guess alive is the proper word, he immediately set about whipping up another of his dreadful tinctures. He ensured me this second one was for my face. I yelled at him the whole time, demanded to know what he'd done to me that I could never enter Heaven.

" 'You chose it, Erik. You said you'd forsake God himself for your silly little chorus girl, and that is exactly what you have done. God hates it, you see, when a mortal takes the opportunity to live forever. He wanted that right exclusively to Himself, the greedy bastard. But Master was granted immortality…God got lonely, and this was before man was created. So naturally God won't let you into Heaven. You didn't go to Hell because Master prefers you to stay here on Earth. Master is more familiarly known to you as Satan.'

"I swallowed the second tincture, not caring what it did to me now. Nothing could compare to having Eden ripped out from under you. Or at least, that's what I thought at the time. When I saw my face in the mirror the next morning, I…let's just say Hiroshi was rather bruised when I finished with him. His potion had only fixed half of my face, made it look as it does now.

" 'Go to your lady,' Hiroshi urged. 'Ask her if she would accept you if the rest of your face were perfect. If she agrees, and returns with you, I will finish what I have begun.'

"So, not knowing what else I could do, I hunted the globe for Christine. When I finally found her, she was two months pregnant with the Vicomte's child. I spoke with her for many hours. Finally, I brought up the question. I told her it wouldn't be wrong to leave Chagny, to come away with me. I promised her I'd love the child as my own.

"She wouldn't come, of course…no matter what I promised or how I pleaded. I returned to Paris, knowing that I had eternity and no one to spend it with. So I turned to my only friend, Nadir. He flatly refused when I suggested it, but Darius had overheard. He was doubting his faith, and immortality was appealing to him. So I brought him back, knowing Hiroshi would still be here.

"And the bastard was. He'd set himself up comfortably in my home, using my morphine and drinking my wine. I thought…since I'd brought Darius, he might be willing to finish the work on my face. But he coldly informed me that he had promised it only if Christine came. He made Darius immortal as well…it was comforting to have Darius, someone who understood the fresh pain of losing redemption and eternal rest. Hiroshi stayed here for years, teaching us how to read minds, control them, everything we needed. It was the summer of 1888 when he finally decided there was nothing left that he could teach us.

"He claimed that spending eighteen years cooped up down here had made him restless, and he went to England. There, he murdered, for the mere joy of killing. Hiroshi wrote me letters describing his 'excursions' in great detail. He knew I wouldn't reveal him to the police; what could they do against an immortal? The Devil would've helped him escape had he been captured. The papers began calling him Jack the Ripper, of course, to draw in readers.

"And that, as they say, is that," Erik finished. "You'll meet him in November. He always comes around for his birthday. Darius and myself are the only people he has that come anywhere close to being friends. And if we aren't here, Hiroshi will hunt us down and then stick around for a few months. It's much easier to just stay here and have him for a day rather than trying to run from him and then suffering his presence for months."

"Maybe…I could go somewhere else for his birthday," Lenore suggested.

"And where do you intend to go?"

"Anywhere that's away from him."

"You've nothing to fear, I'll protect you."

"ARE YOU NUTS? HE'S JACK THE RIPPER! I'm not safe anywhere that's within fifty miles of that man!" Lenore shouted.

"Oh Erik, what horrors have you been telling that little girl?" a male voice inquired sensually. Lenore whipped her head around in the direction of the voice to see a Japanese man who appeared to be in his late twenties. His dark brown eyes weighed her and a sadistic smirk seemed to be permanently fixed on his face. He was dressed entirely in black. "Did you know that this place is swarming with police? Goodness, I had to have so many of them shoot each other just to make it through undetected."

"What brings you here, Hiroshi?" Erik asked in clipped tones. He grabbed Lenore by the arm and pulled her closer.

"Nothing much, just thought I'd drop by and have a look at your little creampuff," Hiroshi replied, his eyes studying Lenore intensely as he came forward with the grace and elegance of a cat. She instinctively shrank away from this dangerous figure, pressing herself into Erik's embrace as hard as she could.

"She is not a snack," Erik hissed.

"Oh? A kitten, perhaps?" Hiroshi speculated, stopping behind the sofa. Lenore buried her face in Erik's shirt while Erik glared at the man. A hand with long, slender fingers ran over her head, petting her with a sensual delicateness that made her shiver with fear. "Or maybe a lover? No, she looks far too young and innocent for that. Just a sweet little kitten, terrified of her Master's face. Poor little pussy."

Lenore heard a sickening crack and moved her head just enough to see Hiroshi out of the corner of her eye. "Touch her again and I won't stop at your arm," Erik threatened.

"What a bother! Honestly Erik, she's just another silly little mortal, no need to break my arm for her," Hiroshi mumbled, nursing said arm. "She's just another doll who will eventually break; what does it matter if I speed up the process a bit?"

"I'm not a doll!" Lenore protested angrily.

"She speaks!" Hiroshi exclaimed with mock surprise. "But I'm sure her bark is worse than her bite."

"Get close enough for me to bite you and we'll find out," Lenore snapped.

"Oh, if only your master would let me, darling, I most certainly would," Hiroshi declared. "I love it when you pets bite. The rougher, the better."

"Pervert."

"I'm an old man, I'm expected to be perverted," Hiroshi said dismissively.

"Try rising above society's expectations," Lenore commanded.

"Is she always this difficult?" Hiroshi inquired of Erik.

"Usually," Erik responded honestly.

"Hey!" Lenore grumbled, glaring at Erik. "You're supposed to be on my side."

"No, he's on my side, of course. Why would he side with a mortal?" Hiroshi replied, chuckling at the mere thought.

"I am on no one's side but Erik's," Erik informed the pair of them.

"Men!" Lenore griped. "You know what? Why don't you two talk amongst yourselves or whatever it is you immortals do when you get together, and I'll go take a long, long, long bubble bath. And maybe when I get out, our guest will have left." Lenore got to her feet, prepared to head for the bathroom.

* * *

As far as Erik was concerned, her idea was quite spectacular. It was also quite ridiculous of her, because she was handing him ample time to finish off those police in his torture chamber. _After making such a fuss about them…you go and forget them all because we have a guest._

Hiroshi leapt to his feet the moment Lenore stood up. "Someone should go with her, Erik," he proclaimed. "Kittens don't do well with water, they're not good swimmers. What if she should drown? Of course, neither of us have anything to do, we could both go with her…"

Erik thought about it for a moment. He knew exactly what Hiroshi was proposing, but he also knew Hiroshi had made a few silly mistakes in his eagerness to have a chance to touch Lenore. "I happen to have two victims in my forest right now," Erik said casually.

"But he's going to let them go," Lenore informed Hiroshi with a dangerous glare at Erik. "Because he knows how upset I'll be if he doesn't."

"Oh, what a shame we both can't help kitty," Hiroshi lied. "Well, it's quite obvious what has to be done then."

"Yes," Erik agreed.

"What is wrong with you?" Lenore snarled at him. "I'm quite capable of bathing by myself. I've managed just fine for the past fifteen years or so!"

"It's so good of you to be so helpful, Hiroshi," Erik continued, ignoring Lenore's words entirely as he stood.

"I AM NOT TAKING A BATH WITH JACK THE RIPPER STANDING OVER ME, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!" Lenore shouted.

"Now, be sure you don't make it too quick for those insects," Erik advised, taking Lenore's arm and heading for the bedroom. "I'd hate to think they had a merciful death." _You should have specified you wanted to take her from the beginning, Hiroshi. You tend to leave little loopholes like that all the time. _Hiroshi sighed resignedly and headed for the torture chamber.

"Let go," Lenore demanded when Erik had closed the bedroom door behind them. "I don't need your help to take a bath, and I want you to go let those men out right now!"

Erik sighed and dragged her into the adjoining room. Lenore had been in the regular bathroom that adjoined his room, but he wanted to her to have a rather special treat today; after all, she was going to have to put up with Hiroshi's presence, probably for a good few months.

"I don't understand why you think I need someone to stand over me while I take a bath, it's not like I'm three years old or something," Lenore grumbled, standing in the bathroom and beginning to take off her clothes. Halfway through this process, she noticed that Erik had removed his frock coat, waistcoat, shirt, and slacks. "You are not getting in with me."

"No, I'm not," he agreed, opening the linen closet, flipping a hidden switch, and retrieving the necessary things. "When you're finished undressing, wrap yourself in this." He handed her a black silk piece of cloth.

"What is it? Is this silk?"

"A peştemal," Erik replied. "And yes, it's silk. I find cotton peştemals appear cheap."

"What the hell is a pe-whatever?" Lenore inquired.

"Must you always ask so many questions?" Erik sighed. Knowing she wasn't going to move until she got an answer, Erik finished undressing her. "You will know soon enough. Humor me and put it on."

Lenore sighed impatiently and wrapped the cloth around her body. "Can I know now?"

"No," Erik responded. He placed wooden clogs decorated with mother-of-pearl at her feet. "These are called nalın, and they ensure that you won't slip on the floor, chérie." She slipped her feet into them, grumbling all the while that she still didn't know what the silk cloth was for.

Opening a hidden door, Erik led her into a dark, narrow corridor. He opened the next door he came upon, and Lenore gasped. The room was a sıcaklık, the first room in a Hammam, or Turkish bath. He had decorated the room in pale green marble tiles. There were niches with fountains along the wall, and a large marble stone in the center.

"Have a seat," Erik said, gesturing to the center stone as he closed the door behind them.

"It's really hot in here," Lenore commented, touching the marble to test temperature before she sat on it.

"A sıcaklık, otherwise known as a hot room or caldarium, is hot because the point of a Turkish bath is to cleanse yourself entirely, including your pores. Which can be done through extensive perspiration, hence the heat in the room," Erik replied. Opening a hidden cabinet, he took out the bottle he wanted, then walked over to Lenore. "I'll need you to take off the peştemal now."

"Then what was the point of me putting it on in the first place?" Lenore griped.

"It's for your modesty, darling," Erik explained. "I may have seen you naked several times, but Hiroshi hasn't. And I'm sure we can count on him to come waltzing in at any moment, really. Therefore, I want you to have that close at hand to cover yourself when that happens."

Lenore shot a worried glance at the door before sliding the silk off, setting it right next to her and keeping one hand on it. Erik opened the bottle and poured a small amount of the oil into the palm of his hand. He got behind her on the stone and began massaging the jasmine and vanilla mixture into her neck.

"Oh, oh, ow ow. Good ow. But ow," Lenore moaned.

"You'll need to lay down for me to properly do your back," Erik informed her.

* * *

Erik massaged every inch of her from the neck down. There wasn't a single part of her he left untouched. Lenore always kept the silk thing close by, trying not to be too tense with worry that Hiroshi would come in. Erik took her to the next room, which had a small pool in it, and gestured for her to get in while he retrieved something else from yet another hidden cabinet. 

"Erik, it's cold," Lenore whined after dipping a toe in. When he merely shook his head, she assumed it was supposed to be cold. _But I don't wanna get in a cold bath. That's no fun at all._

"If you wait much longer, Hiroshi might come walking in," Erik reminded her.

"And if he does, I've got the silk thing," Lenore replied, holding it up.

"Just get in the pool, ma petite," Erik instructed.

"But it's cold," Lenore repeated.

"Don't make me push you in."

"You suck," she grumbled.

Erik looked at her breasts with a smirk. "We'll get to that in a bit."

"Oh, honestly, you're naughty. We're not doing anything like that."

"Once you're done bathing, there's another massage, chouchoute, and the masseur is judged by how many times he can bring his customer to orgasm," Erik explained. "You wouldn't want to give me a bad reputation, now would you?"

"Could be fun to ruin a man's reputation," Lenore mused, slowly lowering herself into the cold pool.

"And you accuse me of being naughty?"

"If the shoe fits…" she replied.

"You women are always obsessed with shoes," Erik said as he came to the edge of the pool with the soap and a bath sponge. "Now let me have one of those dirty feet of yours."

"How dare you insinuate that my feet aren't clean," Lenore replied playfully. "But I suppose that the best punishment would be to have you clean something that isn't dirty. Here you are." She stuck one foot up out of the water, just in Erik's reach.

They continued to banter back and forth while Erik scrubbed every part of her with that sponge, making sure no part of her was unattended. _God, I'm glad I didn't go to a spa to get this done. I can't imagine letting a stranger be this familiar with my body._ Erik was in the process of toweling her off when the door suddenly swung open.

"They're dead," Hiroshi declared. "Oh, kitten, you look so amazingly pathetic when you're wet. It fills my head with thoughts of cuddling you while drying you off."

Lenore hurried to wrap the silk around her, blushing tomato red. _Damn him for catching me off guard. _"Pervert, get out! I'm not decent," she snarled.

"I'm horribly offended," Hiroshi stated. "You're not telling Erik to get out."

"That's because he's not a pervert, nor is he a stranger," Lenore replied.

"All I need is a few minutes, and I wouldn't be a stranger either."

"Maybe not. But you'd still be a pervert."

"Erik, can't I help dry her off?" Hiroshi all but begged. "I would never hurt your little pussy cat, surely you know that."

* * *

Erik suppressed a sigh. Hiroshi wouldn't stop bothering him until he allowed the man to touch Lenore again. _Yet if I should allow him, then he'll see how many more times he can manage to annoy me into letting him do what he pleases. _"You cannot help dry her off," Erik replied sharply while thinking of a way to get Hiroshi off his back without hurting Lenore in the process. "You can brush her hair when I'm done in here." 

Hiroshi gave an excited, almost girly squeal and dashed out of the room to wait, probably fantasizing about all sorts of sexual scenarios that could arise from simply brushing a girl's hair. Erik shook his head; that man was in serious need of help.

"Alright, we need to have a talk," Lenore mumbled, glaring at the door Hiroshi had disappeared through. "Firstly, I didn't need you to give me a bath (although this has been nice and I wouldn't mind if you wanted to do this every day), and I don't need him to brush my hair. I don't know why you listen to him when he tells you I need help doing the smallest thing. Secondly, I'm not letting Jack the Ripper brush my hair. You've gotta be insane! He shouldn't be allowed within ten feet of me. Hell, he shouldn't be allowed within fifty miles of civilization!"

"I listen to him when he makes these suggestions because if I didn't, he would do it himself, ma petite. He's much older than I am, and back in his day, a human pet was pampered to the extremes; if we were back in his time, you wouldn't even be allowed to walk," Erik explained. "And if you don't let him brush your hair, he'll find some other reason to touch you. Let's let him satiate his desires on something simple, hm?"

"He still shouldn't be allowed near society, he's a"- Lenore stopped mid-sentence, a slight blush creeping over her face.

"Go on, Lenore. Finish your sentence," Erik commanded fiercely.

"He's a…a murderer," Lenore finally spat out.

"So, how does that work, darling? It's alright to be here with me, it's perfectly fine for me to live below one of the largest cities of the world, but Hiroshi shouldn't be allowed anywhere close to people?" Erik hissed.

"You're different. You're not a lust murderer," Lenore argued. "And…and…you don't kill people for the fun of it."

"Oh really? I'll have to remember that next time someone dies by my hands," Erik said. "I must try to keep in mind that it's not fun at all."

"Wait, are you telling me that you enjoy killing people?" Lenore inquired.

"Never," Erik replied sarcastically. "I only kill because it's necessary. No fun at all."

"It is not fun!" she shouted. "It's morally wrong and perfectly dreadful of you!"

"With all due respect, Lenore, you've never killed anyone, so you have no idea what it's like," Erik informed her. "Listening to pitiful screams and protests is such a satisfying feeling, knowing you have so much power over your victim. And then watching the light go out of their eyes…it's quite enjoyable. Perhaps you should try it before condemning it."

"You've got good company in Hiroshi, you know that? Why don't you let him brush your hair, and I'll just leave the underground so you two nut cases can be alone." She started for the door.

"I take it you've changed your mind about me being different from him then," Erik said casually, not even remotely concerned that she was thinking about leaving. She couldn't unlock the front door, there was no chance in Hell she was getting out of his house.

"The only difference is that you murder with style," Lenore grumbled.

"Well, thank you for that little compliment."

"Sick weirdo," Lenore mumbled, opening the door. "Oh, for the love of God, fuck off!"

Hiroshi stood in the doorway, brush in hand. He quickly slapped her across the face. "You don't use that sort of language, kitten. It's not acceptable," he snapped.

Erik saw red. _How dare he touch her! After I specifically told him not to. _But then again, Lenore knew she wasn't supposed to use that sort of language. And could he really be upset with Hiroshi for simply trying to teach Lenore a lesson? _Yes. He's practically implying that I can't even teach her to control her language, it's an insult._

Erik was surprised to find that he'd already shoved Lenore out of his way and had Hiroshi by the throat. "You are not to touch her without my permission," Erik growled. "Is this clear, Hiroshi? If it's not, I suggest you leave."

Hiroshi looked rather unconcerned and merely nodded his head a bit. There was a short pause. "Do I still get to brush her hair?" Hiroshi inquired.

Erik released the man, though it was quite a challenge. "I already granted you permission for that," he answered.

"I'll be waiting in the next room. Rather impatiently," Hiroshi said, walking off down the hall.

Erik slammed the door shut behind Hiroshi and turned to Lenore.

* * *

"Thank you," Lenore said timidly, taking a step back from Erik. His eyes burned with anger, and she had a feeling she was in trouble. 

"How many times have I told you such language is unacceptable?" The question was posed in a very soft and dangerous tone.

"More than enough," Lenore replied, hoping to wriggle off the hook.

"How dare you flagrantly disobey me! In front of him, no less!" Erik snarled.

"It wasn't a disobedience thing so much as me just being so annoyed with him that I lost control of myself," Lenore explained.

"You dim-witted child!" Erik snapped. "You understand nothing! If word of that gets back to the Condemned Circle, I'll be considered at fault for not having taught you to properly control yourself. Which will result in your being given over to Hiroshi, due to the fact that he is the one considered to have been wronged."

"But…but…well, I didn't know," Lenore protested, close to crying because she realized all too well how likely it was that Hiroshi would tell the Condemned Circle, whoever the hell they were.

"Ignorance is no excuse!"

Lenore sniffled, thinking of a way out of this. "What about hormones? What if we told them I was pmsing?"

Erik seemed to consider that for a moment. "Yes…then the fault would lie on Satan. If he hadn't tempted Eve in the first place…"

"Wait, are you telling me that, down in Hell, the Condemned Circle considers PMS the devil's fault? That's just too weird…"

Erik shrugged. "If it's not too much to ask, find a way to control yourself as long as he's here," Erik instructed.

Lenore nodded; she didn't want to be 'given' to Jack the Ripper. If that happened, she might as well commit suicide to save herself a good deal of pain and suffering. So half an hour later, she was sitting in a chair in the next room with the silk peştemal wrapped around her while Hiroshi happily brushed all the snarls out of her hair.

"Now that all the tangles are gone, you'll need 100 strokes to make your hair shine," Hiroshi proclaimed before she could jump up when she considered him finished.

"But I don't"- she began. Erik was leaning against the wall, and she looked at him a moment. "Alright, but make it fast." _Don't hit him, don't hit him, don't hit him…I really just wanna hit him…but I can't…that's a very bad idea. I doubt PMS would be a plausible excuse for physical violence...don't hit him. God, he's so annoying! I can officially say now that I hate Jack the Ripper._

Dark, seductive music began to fill her mind. _Oh Erik. How sweet of you to keep me from losing it and just punching this bastard._ She closed her eyes and let the music of the night wash over her, sweeping her away from reality.

* * *

"Hiroshi is creepy," Lenore complained to the authoress.

"I love you too, kitten," Hiroshi said, giving Lenore a suggestive smirk.

"Don't even think of touching her," Erik threatened. "You stupid wench, keep Hiroshi away from Lenore."

"Hiroshi is supposed to be creepy, he's Jack the Ripper. And I can't really stop him, I'm just a mortal," the authoress explained. "And if people don't review, I'll send Hiroshi after them. Honestly! I'm sick of having close to 100 people read a chapter and getting only 8 or 9 reviews! You don't have to log in, and you don't have to be a member to send me a review! I accept anonymous reviews, and I'd love to hear from you people! Please please please review or I'll have to send out the bloodhound."

"Now, now, dear authoress, I'm not a dog," Hiroshi commented.

"I didn't mean it literally. Besides, don't you wanna kill people?"

"Well, yes, I do so love killing people."

"So, review or I'll send Hiroshi out," the authoress said with a dark chuckle.

"Ooo, you're almost sexy when you do that," Hiroshi remarked. "Maybe I'll have to pay more attention to you instead of kitten."

"Lenore was right. You're creepy…"


	26. Chapter 26

Hey, we've got fanart, go to my profile to find the links! Also, a big thanks to Lady Taevyn, she's kinda my beta reader, and keeps me writing dutifully.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Erik had used his music to lull her to sleep; it would be easier for her that way. The less she had to deal with Hiroshi, the better. 

"She's such a sweetheart when she's asleep," Hiroshi commented, still brushing Lenore's hair.

"Hiroshi, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've already given her hair one hundred and sixty five strokes," Erik said.

"Oh? I'd lost count," Hiroshi lied. "An angel when asleep, and a hellish fireball when awake. Kitten's certainly never dull."

"She has name, and it's not kitten," Erik informed the man. "It's Lenore."

"Light?" Hiroshi chuckled, knowing the meaning of Lenore's name. "What a perfect pet for the Master of Darkness. Honestly, Keeran, you couldn't have made a better choice."

Erik hated the name the Condemned Circle had given him. Keeran. It meant little dark one. And he couldn't stand being referred to as "little". When he managed to reach five hundred, the Circle would rename him, based on his accomplishments over the half-millennia of immortality he had served. But until then, he had to suffer Keeran.

"You'll not use that name with her here, Conner," Erik spat. Conner, the wolf-lover, was Hiroshi's name in the Circle. It was a hell of a lot better than Keeran.

"We've never had a woman in the Circle before. I wonder what we'd name her. Maybe Aithne, little fire. What do you think of that name?" Hiroshi mused.

"I don't intend for her to be a part of the Circle, Hiroshi," Erik snarled. "She doesn't belong there."

"No, Light usually doesn't belong in Hell. But loyal pets always find a way to follow their master," Hiroshi said, finally deciding Lenore's hair had been brushed enough and setting the brush down. "You've thought about it, Erik. I know you have. You don't want to watch her wither away and die while you remain young and eternal."

"I won't take Heaven away from her," Erik stated.

"But you don't have to. I can do that," Hiroshi pointed out. "Then she can't blame you for anything. Except maybe for not stopping me."

"If you only came here in the attempt to snatch her soul from Heaven, I'm afraid you won't have it, Hiroshi."

"You're no fun," Hiroshi complained. "I want to touch her some more, Erik. I think I'm quite trustworthy to carry her to bed, don't you?"

"If you were intending to go anywhere other than the bed, I might be able to agree with you," Erik retorted, coming forward and gathering her up in his arms.

"It doesn't really matter much, I suppose," Hiroshi said somewhat sadly. "I'm sorry, Erik. Next time I see you, it won't be a happy occasion. And tell Lenore that she mustn't be afraid of me next time she sees me. Promise me you'll tell her that."

Hiroshi never asked for favors. Hiroshi was never sad over anything. _What do you know that I don't? Why did you come by today, Hiroshi? You had a reason…but what? _"I'll tell her," Erik replied, knowing that Hiroshi would never answer those unspoken questions until Erik already knew what those answers were.

"Promise it! Make sure she won't be afraid!" Hiroshi insisted.

"I promise. She won't be afraid," Erik said, wondering why this was so direly important to Hiroshi.

"Thank you," Hiroshi whispered. "I'll see you again soon, alright? Take care of her."

Before Erik could say that he would, Hiroshi hurried out into the hall, probably halfway to the door in the blink of an eye. That man was fast. _Hiroshi…you've never thanked me for anything. Hell, the entire Circle complains that you never thank them for anything…What's going on? _Erik began entertaining the thought of taking a little trip to Hell to see if he couldn't figure it out.

As he laid Lenore in down in the bed, she stirred, slowly dragging herself back from dreams. "Erik, how long is Hiroshi going to stay?" she asked sleepily.

"He left a minute ago, Lenore," Erik informed her. "He…wanted me to tell you not to be afraid of him the next time you see him."

"Not be afraid of Jack the Ripper?" she mumbled. "That's a laugh."

"Hiroshi was rather adamant about it. Can you at least promise to try not to be afraid?" Erik persisted. It meant a good deal to Hiroshi, and though Erik wasn't very friendly with the man, he had no reason to doubt that Hiroshi had a damn good reason for it.

"I don't think so."

Erik decided not to press it; he had told her, and done what he could to impress upon her the severity of the situation without worrying her. Over time, he would keep reminding her, and eventually she'd probably decide that he was right and she shouldn't be afraid.

"You know, I don't regret having told you that I love you," Lenore said suddenly, catching Erik quite by surprise. She wasn't supposed to have heard him when he said that. She was supposed to have been asleep, under the influence of the morphine. "I almost died once, you know. And it makes you think about things. One thing I realized was that there was this one friend of mine who I fought with every day. We always fought, but deep down we were close. And I remembered the last thing I had said to her the day of my accident was "Stop being a fucking bitch, I can't stand you like that." I kept thinking over and over, if I had died, that was a horrible thing to have said. That I never told her how much I really cared for her deep down. So, when you realize how you feel about someone, when there's something you want to say to anyone, you should say it. Because you might not be able to tell them tomorrow."

Erik looked at her, staring up at him with those eyes that had been made to see the brutal truth of reality far too early in her life._ You shouldn't have had thoughts like that, you shouldn't know how fleeting life is at your age. These are supposed to be the years in your life when you're at your prime, when you consider yourself immortal, immune to anything that can kill you. But you don't think that way at all. You've been aged before your time._

"Come closer, I want to tell you something," Lenore said, beckoning him forward with one finger. "Closer, lean in." He complied, and when his shirt was within reach of her hand, she grabbed a fistful of his collar and pulled him down until their faces were mere inches apart. "I want you. Right now."

At first, Erik was merely stunned by her words. He had never expected to hear that from any woman. _She's willing to give herself to me after she's seen my face?_

"Don't make me repeat myself," she said sternly. "If I have to, I get to be on top."

* * *

Lenore knew that would do it. Erik climbed on top of her, pressing his lips to hers as he kicked off his boots. Lenore began unbuttoning his frock coat and Erik jerked up instinctively, recalling what had happened last time. He took off his upper garments himself, obviously not wanting her to knock the mask off again. 

_This is not the best time to voice concerns, but… _"Erik, you know it's gonna take longer for me to be ready than it will for you, right?" Lenore inquired. "You know I need a hell of a lot of foreplay to become aroused? I'm sorry, you're an immortal, and you've probably done this a million times. I'm just really nervous cuz this is my first time."

"No, darling, I've never done this before," Erik admitted, looking somewhat sheepish. She understood his discomfort; few guys would want to tell a girl they were a virgin, and especially a man as old as Erik would be ashamed to admit that.

"Alright. Um, we'll just take it slow, and let's make sure we keep communication up. Cuz I need to know what pleases you, and I can't read minds like you can," Lenore said.

"I…I like it when you struggle," Erik confessed, the look on his face implying that it made him a monster to like that sort of thing.

"To be honest with you, I like to struggle," Lenore replied. She'd never told anyone else that. She really did enjoy feeling terrified, feeling like she had to escape, especially if she knew she couldn't get away.

"Can I tie you up?" Erik whispered.

"That might be a bit too much for our first time," Lenore pointed out. "We'll see how it goes."

Suddenly, Erik launched himself onto her with a feral growl, pinning her arms to the bed as he ravaged her neck with his teeth. It certainly startled her, and instinct had her squirming beneath him. She pushed her body up against his with all her strength in an attempt to throw him off of her, even though she knew she'd never manage that.

Using his teeth, Erik unwrapped the silk peştemal from her body and began attacking her breasts, his grip on her wrists tightening. She began pushing her body against his repeatedly, half of it struggling and the other half of it passion. Once he'd had his fill of her breasts, Erik trailed kisses down her stomach to between her legs. Upon reaching that area, he employed his tongue in the effort to please her.

Lenore went limp with passion beneath his hands as her breath began coming in ragged gasps. She couldn't struggle anymore, not when she was feeling such pleasure. _This has to be difficult for him; he's taking such pains to make sure he doesn't lose the mask. _She wasn't sure if she'd upset him by suggesting he take it off. But she wanted them to communicate their likes and dislikes as they went, and she knew he wouldn't say anything about his discomfort if he thought she wanted the mask on. "Erik, take off the mask," she gasped. If he tried to tell her he was keeping it on for her comfort, she could tell him that it was hurting her. Which wouldn't be a lie; the porcelain was rubbing against her skin uncomfortably with his movements.

Erik stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "Are you sure?" he inquired fearfully.

"I'm sure," Lenore replied without hesitation.

His fingers trembled as he lifted his hand to his mask and slowly removed it. He gently laid it a few feet away on the bed, looking terribly uncertain about her decision. "If…if you want me to put it back on…I'll understand," he said softly.

"If I wanted it on, I wouldn't have asked you to take it off," Lenore pointed out. "Now, do you remember where you left off, or am I going to have to tell you?"

Erik smiled before returning his tongue's attentions on her. She realized it was the first time she had seen him smile out of genuine happiness. Not a smirk, or an amused grin. A genuine, simple, pure smile. _He's very handsome when he smiles. I wonder if he knows that…_

_Well, I know now, chérie, _Erik's voice echoed inside her mind. She had been so full of passion, she hadn't even noticed when Erik slipped into her head. Not that she minded; it helped him know what actions pleased her without her having to say a word.

Lenore moaned as she felt that pulsing pressure beginning to build between her legs. Erik moved his mouth back up her body to suck on her breasts as he began grinding his hips against her own. Lenore placed gentle kisses on the top of his head while her hands wandered over his muscular back.

_Get the pants off, damnit,_ Lenore's mind screamed. She didn't know how long she could wait for him to relieve that terrible pressure within her. Her hands tugged impatiently at the waistband of his slacks, and Erik pulled off of her long enough to finish disrobing.

Lenore stared at him for a moment. Sure, she'd had sex ed classes, but she had never had a naked man right in front of her, nor had she seen a naked man aroused. _It looks big…but I don't really know much about that…maybe that's normal…_

"If you don't wish to continue, now would be the time to say so," Erik informed her.

"I don't want to stop. I want to know…" she said softly. "Take me, Erik."

* * *

Erik wasn't quite ready to take her just yet. Taking her hand, he wrapped it around him and helped her move her hand up and down his manhood at a tempo that pleased him. Certain she had the rhythm down, he left her hand to work by itself as he panted from drowning in ecstasy. 

He could hear her thoughts, and knew she was a bit embarrassed at where her hand was, but she was overcoming that discomfort. Lenore suddenly let go, surprising him. He hadn't expected her to decide when she stopped giving pleasure. Then he felt her fingertips slide down his manhood, barely brushing the skin. It was such a light touch, but it increased his lust tenfold and he could not keep himself from groaning out her name.

_I was hoping you'd like that. But don't expect me to take it in my mouth, I'm not in to giving oral._

Erik gasped as he recovered from the swell of passion she'd given him. Quite frankly, the idea of putting it in her mouth had never occurred to him. People of this time were decidedly strange with some of their sexual practices. There was a particular place on her body where his manhood was meant to enter, and it certainly wasn't her mouth.

Moving her hand away from his aroused member, Erik dropped back onto her, grinding his hips against her once again as he thrust his tongue into her mouth. Her hands, trapped between their bodies, began to dance over his chest at a wild pace, moving fast then slowing down before speeding back up. Her tongue was battling with his, trying to push it back and gain entry to his mouth.

Erik withdrew his tongue slowly, letting her think she was winning. Just as her tongue touched the edge of his lips, his own leapt back into her mouth. She groaned into his kiss, and he could tell from the feelings in her mind that she'd enjoyed that immensely.

Lenore pressed her entire body up into him, and he knew that this was the right moment. Pushing himself up, he placed his hands on either side of her head to support himself as he plunged into her. She cried out, but the only feelings her mind radiated were those of pleasure, not pain. He pulled out and thrust back in again while she gasped for air beneath him. Erik pulled out once again, and when he came back down for her, she met him halfway, burying him deeply inside of herself.

Erik reached deeper into her mind and held off her climax. He continued to pound into her, and she was more than eager to help him penetrate her as deeply as possible. She wrapped her legs around his waist, using every resource she could to drive him in further. When he released his seed inside of her, he released her climax so that they came together.

Pulling out of her entirely, Erik collapsed on top of her, too exhausted to move. They were both covered in a thin layer of sweat, gasping for air. He certainly wasn't helping Lenore regain her breath by laying on top of her, but Erik just couldn't find enough energy to move. He just needed a few minutes to rest.

"Erik…what if I get pregnant?" Lenore asked suddenly, worry dripping from her voice.

"You won't," he replied. "I'm not fertile, darling. So if you get pregnant, I'll want to know who the other man is."

"I get the feeling you'd kill him," Lenore said. "Not much incentive for me to tell you who he is in that case."

"Is there anything you'd like to share with me? Perhaps you're not as innocent as you claimed," Erik accused lightly. "You're not carrying Deville's child, are you?"

"If I am, then I'd love to know how the hell he got me pregnant without my knowledge of it," Lenore returned.

"Relax; I was only teasing," Erik chuckled.

"Well, it wasn't very nice," she replied, trying to keep from giggling.

Erik had recovered himself enough that he could roll off her now and he did so, wrapping an arm around her waist once he was settled next to her. Only after he was comfortable did it occur to him that she was snuggled against his right side, and he wasn't wearing the mask. The wretched half of his face was all she would see right now.

Just as he was about to locate his mask, he felt the lightest sensation upon his deformed cheek. So soft and gentle that it was almost impossible to feel, Lenore had placed a kiss upon the right side of his face. "Promise you won't ever leave me, Erik," Lenore whispered in his ear. "Promise me you'll love me till the end of time."

"I promise," Erik said, close to tears because of that simple little kiss. It was not a gesture made to buy someone's life, it was not given to show gratitude at being released from captivity and given a blessing to marry the man of her choosing. It was a gesture of her love for him, something that, until this moment, had been entirely inconceivable to him. Never had he thought a woman would love him enough to kiss his deformed face.

A few minutes later, Lenore was out like a light, her head on his chest. Looking at her, Erik couldn't have imagined when he met her almost three months ago that she would ever be his. She had seemed too immature, too bothersome. _You're growing up, my little one. _Soon enough, she would be a woman, and it was actually quite a frightening thought. If he didn't follow through on his promise to never leave her and always love her, Lenore would become the most devastating woman in history. If Erik broke his promise, she would have a cold, unapproachable beauty that would bring every man to his knees, and she would break their hearts and ruin them, leaving them unable to trust anyone, including themselves. Yet if he kept his promise, she would live the rest of her life in this dark basement, giving him all of her love.

_"You don't want to watch her wither away and die while you remain young and eternal."_ Hiroshi's words haunted him. "I've ruined you, my love," Erik whispered. "Ruined everything you could have had. If I let you go to spare the pain we'll suffer as you age, you'll spend the rest of your life wanting to come back to me. And if I keep you…I've made a mess of everything. Either way, we'll both be hurt."

_But no matter what, we'll always have this memory; the one time we both knew we were fully loved for who we are, not scorned for our appearance. I know your memory will fade with age, but if there's one thing you remember until you die, let our first night of passion be it._

"I'll let you decide whether you remain here or try to make something from the rest of your life," Erik said softly. When she woke up, she'd be forced to face the ugly mess he had created. Whatever she chose, he would honor her decision and make the best of it.

* * *

Lenore woke up in Erik's arms. _Perfect way to start the day._ He was asleep, peaceful and handsome, despite his face. "Do I love you because you're beautiful? Or are you beautiful because I love you?" she whispered. 

Not wanting to wake him up, Lenore carefully extracted herself from his embrace and got out of bed. _Damn, I'm so tired. Why am I so tired? Kinda light-headed too. Think I'll go sit in the living room, at least until I feel better. _She wrapped his frock coat around herself and made her way to the door.

Lenore shut the door to the bedroom behind her quietly, then crossed the drawing room to the mantel. _"I will leave it here for you." _She picked up the necklace he'd given her for her birthday, noting that he'd fixed the chain.

_I don't want a new one, or a replacement. This one is perfect. It will remind me that hearts break when you drop them, but you can fix them if you try. I…I want to stay here with you, Erik. I want to stay, and be your wife._

Just as she finished fastening the chain around her neck, a constricting pain throbbed in her chest. _What's wrong with me?_ Moments later, clutching at her heart, Lenore collapsed to the floor.

* * *

"Damn bitch! What have you done to Lenore?" Erik yelled at the authoress, cuffing her again for good measure.

"Please stop hitting me," the authoress sobbed. "If you kill me, I can't continue the story, and then you'll never know what happened to Lenore."

"What our darling little authoress is incapable of saying at the moment is that she'd very much appreciate reviews," Hiroshi said.

"Where the bleeding hell did you come from?" Erik roared, glaring at Hiroshi.

"You answered your own question; Hell, of course. Dear me, little authoress, you're going to need someone to nurse you back to health…" Hiroshi commented, eyeing the authoress with lust.

"Dear God, they're both mad, I'm doomed," the authoress wailed.


	27. Chapter 27

So, you're all dying to know what's happened to Lenore…kinda sad that no one commented whatsoever on the fact that they finally had sex…(except for Lady Taevyn, she commented on it…then again, she beta read it…so…yeah…)

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Erik stretched as he woke, and quickly realized Lenore wasn't in the bed with him anymore. Deciding not to bother with the mask, he pulled on a pair of slacks and headed for the drawing room. He would be brave when he informed her of what their future could hold and when she made her decision, he would accept it without question. No urging her to change her mind, no trying to influence her choice. It had to be her decision entirely. 

All thoughts of being a noble gentleman over the issue left his mind when he saw her lying on in front of the fireplace in a heap. "Lenore!" he cried, rushing over to her and taking her into his arms. Her body was cold, almost as cold as death. Breath barely passed through her lips. "What's wrong with you, Lenore?" The only thing he could think of to do was to take her aboveground, get her to a hospital. This was most certainly beyond his skill, whatever it was. "Don't worry, I'll get you the help you need," Erik assured her unconscious form.

"They can't help her any more than you can, Erik," the dark voice of Satan himself came from the shadows by the front door. "You know as well as I there's only one way to save her now."

* * *

"I know this place," Lenore whispered. She had opened her eyes and found herself in a meadow of roses, the scent almost overpowering her nose. Erik's music wasn't there, but this was surely the edge of Heaven. Looking forward, she saw a line of people waiting at a gate set in a large white, marble wall. Behind the wall, white elegant towers rose into the sky. "Am I…am I dead?" 

"Almost," Hiroshi's familiar voice said behind her. She jumped a mile, and she whirled to face him. "Erik told you not to be afraid, didn't he?"

_He did…but…_ "What's going on?"

"We can't talk here," Hiroshi murmured. "If they catch me here, I'll be roughly escorted back to Hell, and you'll be condemned for eternity." Hiroshi offered her a hand.

_Do I dare take it? What if he's trying to trick me? What if this is all some sort of weird mind thing he's doing to me? Can I trust him? Erik, why did you tell me not to be afraid of him? If you hadn't said anything, this would be a lot easier._

Lenore looked at that line of people awaiting judgment. She bit her lip and prayed she was making the right decision. Turning her back on the walls of Heaven, she took Hiroshi's hand.

The landscape swirled around them, turning into a gray mist. The mist grew into fog, and Lenore was shocked to find herself sitting in a boat with Hiroshi on a river. "The River Styx, darling, to spare you confusion," Hiroshi commented.

"I don't care what it's called; tell me what's going on right now or I'll shove you into it!" Lenore snapped.

"Such a temper! I'm only trying to help you," Hiroshi muttered. "The River Styx, as you may or may not know, is the boundary between the realm of the living and the realm of the dead. And as I said before, you're almost dead."

"How does one manage to be 'almost dead'?" Lenore asked, trying to keep her temper under control. This man was annoying and a sadistic murderer, and it was very hard not to suspect him of trying to trick her into committing an unforgivable sin.

"Satan's keeping your body alive right now," Hiroshi explained. "But it's too weak to keep a hold on your soul. Physical bodies need a particular amount of strength and energy to contain a soul, it's very complicated to explain."

"So, I'm supposed to be dead right now? What the hell happened that I'm dead?" Lenore demanded.

"You have a condition called Arrhythmogenic Right Ventricular Cardiomyopathy," Hiroshi informed her. "It runs in families, sometimes skips generations. You're great great uncle died from it when he was twenty three, but you wouldn't know that. Humans don't have a cure for it yet. The disease destroys the heart muscles in your right ventricle and replaces it with scar and fatty tissue. Eventually, your heart stops pumping blood. Which is exactly what happened to you."

"You know, it's disturbing how casually you tell me that my heart stopped working," Lenore grumbled. "This is ridiculous, I don't have a history of heart problems, I've never had any symptoms to make me suspect something was wrong."

"The disease doesn't show until late teens or early twenties," Hiroshi replied. "In some cases, such as yours, premature death occurs with no warning. Sometimes people have a bit of warning, not that it makes any difference."

"With all due respect here, I think you're insane," Lenore informed him. "What's the point in bringing me to the River Styx just to tell me how I died? I'm sure Saint Peter coulda told me without having to take this little side trip."

"Yes, well…" Hiroshi trailed off. "I'm not exactly Heaven's favorite demon. The point in bringing you here was to keep you from going to Judgment until you've heard your options. You see, you don't have to die yet."

"Oh, like I'm going to listen to a demon," she muttered.

"History will define you by the choice you make here," Hiroshi said softly. "The first option is, of course, immortality. Should you choose it, you'll be the only woman to ever enter the Condemned Circle. Trust me, I've peeked into the future and there won't be any other women.

"Your second option is Second Life. In this option, I transfer your soul into an unborn child (who is currently without a soul, so don't get yourself all flustered that you'd be killing someone, because you won't). You'll forget your past, except for intense memories. Your family and friends will be completely forgotten, but at the age of eighteen, you'll have nightmares of your accident. And when you reach twenty one, you'll start having some rather…vivid dreams about your little experience with Erik."

"That's none of your business," Lenore snarled.

"Your third choice," Hiroshi continued, pretending not to hear her last remark, "is to go back to Judgment, where you'll enter Heaven and God will have the Pope make you a saint. Not sure what you'll be the saint of, but you'll be a saint. He'll give you that because you resisted the temptation to put off Judgment."

"So wait, if I choose one of the first two options, I'm going to Hell?"

"No. If you choose the first option, you pretty much get to roam Earth for eternity if you like. There are certain consequences of it, but that's another story. Option two gives you a clean slate, all past sins immediately forgiven. That's because you're starting life over anew, and Heaven tries not to hold you responsible for your old life. They haven't had much in the way of soul income for the past hundred years, you see."

Lenore gave a sigh. "I want to know more about option two before I make a decision."

"Why is it they always want to know more about option two?" Hiroshi murmured. "Fine. Option Two details: You'll have a better complexion, larger breasts, a nice hourglass figure, a round backside, and rather shapely legs. Your hair and eyes will remain the same. Your voice will be altered to some extent. Because you've lived once before, you'll learn to walk and talk sooner, and you'll learn to read at a younger age; in short, society will consider you a genius. As I already told you, this life will be completely forgotten except for the intense experiences. Anything else you'd like to know about this option?"

"What about my name?" Lenore asked after a pause. "What'll my name be if I go this road?"

"We can arrange it to stay the same," Hiroshi said. "Or we can make sure it's changed, if you want."

"I think I'd like it to stay the same," Lenore replied. "You know, I can remember a time when I would've done anything to change my name…and now that I can, I find I've grown attached to it."

"Erik's voice can have that affect," Hiroshi chuckled. "He has a way of saying a word that can make you love it or hate it for eternity."

"If I pick option three, do I get to say goodbye?"

"Yes. I'd let you borrow my body for as long as you needed. Though you can't keep it for more than a year, so don't entertain the thought of running off with it and trying to stay with Erik longer than that."

"Oh yeah, cuz I'm gonna have sex with Erik while I'm in a man's body," Lenore muttered.

"I wouldn't mind," Hiroshi said with a shrug. "He's quite attractive, I understand what women see in him."

"I'm just going to pretend I never heard that…"

"Have you made any decisions yet at all?" Hiroshi inquired. "We can't exactly sit here for eternity waiting for you to make a choice. If you've ruled out immortality, it'd be nice to let Satan know so he can release what bit of life remains in your body."

"You can't expect me to decide in the blink of an eye," Lenore grumbled. It certainly wasn't fair, not at all. _Erik'll be so upset if I choose to go to Judgment. He'll never see me again…though he might not see me again if I choose Second Life either. The only way to be sure we stay together is to choose immortality. But that sucks...Life isn't fair…come to think of it, this is death…Death isn't fair either._

"Nothing's ever fair, Lenore," Hiroshi stated.

"That's the first time you've used my name. I didn't think you knew what it was," Lenore observed. "Usually, you just call me kitten."

"Well, Erik doesn't like to think of you that way, and Erik's my friend…"

Lenore knew she couldn't bear to tell Hiroshi the truth about that. Erik wasn't his friend, he merely tolerated the man. "This is the worst decision I've ever had to make," she murmured. Was it wrong of her not to want to die? Was it wrong to want to keep living? It was a natural human instinct to do anything to survive…but how would God feel about her becoming immortal or getting a new life?

"He'll be pissed if you choose immortality. But choosing new life is forgiven," Hiroshi said.

"I don't know what to do," Lenore whispered, putting her head in her hands. "Immortality means eternity with Erik, but eternal damnation. Second Life doesn't condemn me, but I might never see Erik again. And Judgment means I get to go to Heaven, but then I know I'll never see him again."

"I know," Hiroshi responded, taking her into his arms as she began to cry. "It'll be alright. Just make the choice you think will make you happiest."

"I don't know which one that is," she sobbed into his shirt.

"Let me make a suggestion. Go with Second Life. It's the only choice that doesn't have any definites. You're not guaranteed anything through Second Life, not condemnation or salvation…You don't have to take my advice, of course, but that's just my two cents, for what it's worth."

Lenore collected herself, trying to weigh all the pros and cons. It was a horrible decision no matter what she chose. "I've decided," she told Hiroshi fifteen minutes of silence later.

* * *

"She did not choose immortality," Hiroshi's voice sounded from the shadows next to Satan. "I'm sorry, Erik. I told you the next time we saw each other, it wouldn't be a pleasant visit." 

Erik felt the last bit of warmth leave Lenore's body, heard her last breath pass through her lips. "What did I ever do to Him to deserve this?" Erik snarled, clutching her body as the tears began.

* * *

"Chief Jetter, you can call off the search," Ember said softly, staring at the parchment in front of her.

To the Parker family, friends, and whomever it may concern,

It is with the deepest regret that I inform you of Lenore's passing on the thirtieth of August. She died of a heart condition. I ask that you allow me to take care of the burial. I loved her deeply and wish to have her near me. I hope you can understand this.

With deepest sympathies,

Erik.

The ink was terribly smeared, and Ember knew he had cried the entire time while writing it. Ember couldn't hold it in anymore and burst into tears.

* * *

The woman had died giving birth, bringing a beautiful little girl into the world. "Mr. Wolfe, what do you want the child's name to be?" a nurse asked. 

He didn't care about the woman whatsoever. She was a common slut, and when she got pregnant at a fraternity party, he had claimed to be the father so he could gain custody of the child.

"Lenore Aithne," the man responded. "I've been waiting nine months for you, kitten," he whispered to the infant in his arms.

* * *

"What have you done with my Lenore?" Erik yelled, grabbing the authoress by the throat and preparing to strangle the poor woman.

"Please stop the violence," the authoress sniffled. "It hurts."

"That's the idea, you halfwit!"

"Honestly Erik, you're such a monster sometimes," Hiroshi commented, examining his nails carelessly.

Erik threw the authoress to the ground and grabbed Hiroshi. "You know what's happened. Tell me or I'll snap your neck," he threatened.

"You know, a threat might be more effective if I could actually die."

While the two immortals were occupied in conversation, the authoress began limping away at top speed. The hell with reminding the readers to review; her safety was more important.


	28. Chapter 28

This part of the story just seems to be flowing right out of my brain and into Word. So I'm posting quicker. Just want to make sure you all know, fanfic must be having a problem of some sort. Couldn't read reviews for chapter 27 for at least four hours after I posted it…so if you ask a question or something and don't get a response for a bit, just know that it's because fanfic is screwing up and I'm not getting the email alerts.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Hiroshi sat behind the desk, looking over the paperwork he'd finished with. Twenty one years had passed so quickly. It seemed only yesterday he had brought her from the hospital to this large estate acquired from a lawyer he'd granted Second Life to. Now she was a full-grown woman. Of course, as a father figure, he made sure never to touch her inappropriately. Remembering Erik's threats all those years ago, Hiroshi had only touched her as much as was absolutely necessary. A rap on the door brought him out of his fond memories of her childhood. "Enter," he said.

"You wanted to see me, Father?" Lenore inquired, walking into the room with all the elegance of a proper lady.

"Yes. It would seem that the Opera Populaire is holding auditions for a new diva. I know how fond you are of singing and thought it would make a nice birthday gift if we had you try out," Hiroshi explained, coming right to the point.

Lenore smiled, one of her brilliant grins that lit up her entire face. She hurriedly made her way behind the desk and hugged him. "Thank you, it's perfect," she whispered.

"Goodness, my little kitten's gone and grown up so fast," Hiroshi sighed, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"Father, I'm too old to be called 'kitten' anymore," Lenore informed him, not for the first time.

"I suppose," Hiroshi replied as he always did. "Let's get going, the jet's already waiting."

Hiroshi had a rather affluent existence here on Earth, and he had spared no expense where Lenore was concerned. She'd had a piano instructor at the age of three; Erik had told Hiroshi that her fingers would've been perfect for the piano, and he was quite right. At the age of four, Lenore had begun instruction with a private tutor. She had graduated from Harvard with a master's degree in Divinity as well as a master's in Theology. An interesting choice, considering that her 'father' was immortal. He had arranged vocal training when Lenore turned six; she had the most amazing range. She could sing anywhere from Alto One to Soprano One. She could sometimes manage to delve down into the Alto Two range, but that was a rarity and had to be forced, which every instructor he had spoken with was strictly against.

"He should be pleased," Hiroshi muttered to himself as he walked with Lenore through the corridors of their manor.

"What was that, Father?" Lenore asked.

"Nothing, kitten. Promise me you won't be devastated if some other girl gets the part," Hiroshi replied, knowing full well that any other girl who got the position of diva would meet with quite a nasty end, by Erik's hands or his own.

"Of course I won't be upset. If she gets it, she will obviously have deserved it," Lenore said lightly. "But what will you do if I get the part? I'll have to live in France and you'll be here all alone."

"I could always move to France with you," Hiroshi pointed out.

"Father! That would be embarrassing!"

"Well, I've never known anyone who has died from embarrassment. So if you should perish from it, I'll make sure we put on your tombstone that you were the first victim to suffer death from humiliation."

"You have a strange sense of humor," Lenore giggled.

* * *

Ember sighed tiredly. She hated auditions. Thankfully this would be the last year of this. At forty-five, streaks of gray in her black hair, she didn't know how much longer she could manage an Opera House. Rosalyn had suggested they keep running it as a memorial to Lenore, and Lenore's estates had been turned into comfortable getaways for heart patients that didn't have much longer to live.

_But I just can't do this any more. God, Erik looks so young every time I see him. Guess that's just a perk of immortality. I'm so tired of this though. I'm more than ready to retire…probably should have retired ten years ago._

Ember never really bothered to listen to those auditioning. Erik always came up and sat in the shadows of Box 5, and Ember and Rosalyn let him have the final say in casting. The girl who had been forcing out a painful rendition of Carmen's aria finally shut her trap.

"Thank you, we'll get in touch with you by the end of the week," Ember sighed tiredly as she put the girl's resume off to the side in the pile of candidates least likely to receive Erik's approval.

"Ember, look at this one," Rosalyn whispered, passing her friend the application of the next auditioner. "You don't think…?"

"How? It's got to be coincidence," Ember said, though she couldn't agree with her words.

"Good day, Madam O'Malley, Madam Johannson. My name is Lenore Aithne Wolfe, and I would like to sing Margarita's invocation to the angels from Faust," the young woman who had taken the previous auditioner's place said politely.

"That would be very pleasant, Miss Wolfe," Rosalyn replied. "Please begin."

"I have to go out for a breath of air, I'll be back shortly," Ember excused herself to Rosalyn.

The moment Ember was out of the auditorium, she fell to her knees, tears in her eyes. _It can't be…but it is. She has the same face, the same eyes, the same hair. The voice is a bit different, and she's gotten more buxom, but that's my sister._ The beautiful soprano voice began to sing, and Ember was astonished to find that she could hear it outside of the house. Surely no one could project their voice that well.

"Ember, hon, what's wrong?" Patrick asked, coming up the stairs and shocked to find his wife of fifteen years in such a state. He usually dropped by during the day when he wasn't too busy with court cases.

"She's not dead. She's not dead, Patrick. She's in there right now, auditioning," Ember replied, knowing that Patrick probably had no idea who Ember meant when she said 'she'.

"Who's auditioning?" Patrick inquired. "Maybe you shouldn't wait till next year to retire, this is all too stressful for you."

"My sister, Lenore. She's in there, right now. I swear it's her!" Ember insisted, quickly getting to her feet. "I'll show you." She took Patrick's hand and dragged him into the auditorium.

"Mother of God," Patrick whispered. "It's not possible…She's dead. He told us she was dead, he's got her body down there, for the love of Christ!"

* * *

"Do you think I did well, Father?" Lenore asked nervously backstage.

"Splendidly, kitten," Hiroshi replied. "You'll get the part, I have no doubt."

"I'm your daughter, you're just biased," Lenore laughed.

"Miss Wolfe, can I speak with you?" Madam O'Malley said, appearing in the wings.

"See? They've already decided to let you have the part, I'm sure," Hiroshi whispered. "Go on."

"What can I do for you, Madam O'Malley?" Lenore inquired once they were in the managers' office.

"Lenore, it's me," the woman said desperately. "I know I'm a lot older than the last time you saw me, but you have to remember me."

"I'm sorry, Madam, you must have confused me with someone else. We've never met," Lenore replied, wondering if the woman was mentally stable.

"Lenore, it's me! Ember, your sister," Madam O'Malley continued. "Can't you remember? I don't know how you're alive, but I know it's you. You have to remember me, you just have to!"

"Madam, maybe you should think of seeing a psychiatrist," Lenore suggested.

"Just hear me out…"

* * *

"So what did you think of her?" Hiroshi's voice said behind Erik's current location.

"What did she sacrifice for this?" Erik demanded. She shouldn't be alive, she was supposed to be in Heaven now. If she'd given up Heaven for him…he didn't want her to suffer that loss.

"Nothing," Hiroshi replied. "She chose Second Life."

"Only one out of every five billion souls are offered that, you can't possibly expect me to believe that she was lucky enough to"-

"I arranged it," Hiroshi cut him off.

"Why? What do you get from it?" Erik inquired, tense with worry that Lenore was now eternally damned for her decision. It was all he could do to stay in the seat of Box 5.

Hiroshi came over and sat beside him. "You're my friend, Erik. I wanted you to be happy," the man explained with a tired sigh, thinking that to be quite obvious. "I did what I could to preserve her past image, though I think the breasts and…backside are quite an improvement. Erik…I raised her myself. I did the best I could, I just hope it's enough. She began piano instruction at age three, voice training at six. She's also a Harvard graduate with two Master's Degrees."

"It doesn't matter," Erik reflected sadly. "I won't ruin her life again. I won't put her back in that position. She doesn't remember me, it would only hurt to speak with her, or see her. I'm afraid I can't see fit to cast her at all."

"Don't do this, Erik," Hiroshi said calmly. "Lenore chose Second Life because she couldn't bear the thought of taking the Judgment and spending eternity without you. I know she could have chosen immortality instead, but she wasn't ready to give up Heaven."

"And she will not be ready to give it up this time, either," Erik hissed. "Is it your intention to increase my pain? Take her, and leave. Don't ever bring her here again."

"Do you know what her last words were before her soul passed to her next life? 'Tell Erik that I will always be his, no matter the circumstances.' Don't put up these walls, Erik. She's waiting for you, and if you walk away from her, she won't stop waiting. Ever. She'll die alone, with no husband or children, and then she'll be in Heaven, watching you and wishing you had taken her back."

"She doesn't remember, Hiroshi. She can't wait for someone she doesn't know," Erik snapped.

"She doesn't remember you specifically, that's true. But she remembers the time you two made love. She'll start dreaming of it in a week. Every night, she'll dream of being yours," Hiroshi whispered fiercely. "Don't hurt her like this! Don't force her to live her life belonging to a dream, a shadow of what should be."

"GET OUT OF MY OPERA HOUSE!" Erik shouted at the annoying man. The boy auditioning on stage stopped in the middle of a word, staring around wildly for the source of the voice before giving a terrified yelp and running for fear of his life. _His voice wasn't that good anyway…_

"I do everything possible to give you back your precious Lenore, and this is how you repay me?" Hiroshi snarled.

* * *

"Please, my father will be wondering where I am," Lenore pleaded. Madam O'Malley was currently dragging her through the Opera House, muttering something along the lines of 'if you've forgotten him…'

Madam O'Malley stopped, opening the door to Box 5 and then shoving Lenore in first.

"…is how you repay me?" her father was hissing into the shadows.

"Father?" _Dear God, are they all going mad today?_

"Lenore, what perfect timing," Hiroshi said with a grin, grabbing something in the darkness. He hauled a man out of the shadows. "I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine. Erik Dessler."

The man's eyes seemed glued to the floor, for he wouldn't look up and show her his face at all. He was dressed in old-fashioned evening attire, and his dark hair was slicked back.

"It's very nice to meet you, Monsieur Dessler," Lenore greeted the man properly. She held out her hand, fully expecting him to show proper etiquette and give it a quick kiss.

"Erik, don't be shy," Hiroshi said, giving the man a small push towards Lenore.

"I won't bite, Monsieur," Lenore tried to assure the man. _"I won't bite. Unless, of course, you ask me to." _Lenore was momentarily puzzled. Those words had come from her memory, but she certainly couldn't remember ever having been with a man that possessed such a rich voice and had had the gall to suggest something so inappropriate.

The man came forward, but rather than greeting her properly, he pushed past her quickly, disappearing into the corridor outside.

"You'll have to forgive him, kitten," Hiroshi said. "Your beauty struck him dumb."

"Auditions are over for the day," Madam Johannson said below them. "I've heard enough from all of you. I'll see you again in a week."

The silence in Box 5 was deafening. Lenore stood between her father and Madam O'Malley, wondering what in the world was going on with everyone today. She was beginning to suspect lunacy ran rampant in this Opera House and that it was quite contagious. "Would it be alright if I stay a bit longer, Madam O'Malley? This place is quite beautiful, and I get the strange feeling that I've been here before," Lenore said.

"That's fine," the woman said, her eyes locked on Lenore's father with a smoldering glare.

"If you'll excuse me…" Lenore hurried out before either one decided she could not be excused. She wandered corridors close to the auditorium, not wanting to get horribly lost.

* * *

"Who the bleeding hell are you?" Ember snarled when Lenore left, pushing the man down into a chair.

"I'm simply the father of one of the girls auditioning," he replied.

"Don't give me that bullshit," Ember snapped. "You're another immortal, aren't you? What are you doing here? How do you know Erik? And what have you done to my sister?"

"I'm here to see my daughter audition," the man began. "I made Erik immortal, so that's how I know him. And I've done nothing to your sister. She's dead, twenty one years now if I'm correct. The girl with me carries your sister's soul, but she is in no way related to you anymore. Nor does she remember her past life."

"That's my sister," Ember insisted. "I'd know her anywhere."

"Lenore Wolfe is not your sister. Your sister was Lenore Parker, and she died from a rare heart condition. I preserved her soul and gave her a new life. She will never remember you, no matter how much you may want her to. She has extremely vague memories of her lover, so it is rather inconceivable that she would have any recollection of her past family and friends," the man said. "And I warn you to tread carefully, Madam. I've been known to history as Jack the Ripper. I assure you, I don't mind killing you if you annoy me."

Ember sank down into the chair next to him. "There's got to be a way to get her memories back," she reasoned.

"Well, if you figure it out, do let me know. Satan would be delighted to hear someone's finally figured out how to do that," Jack retorted.

* * *

Erik stood inside the wall down near the stage. If Hiroshi decided to follow him, he would try the house first. He'd never to think to look for Erik so close to the surface. _Why? Why did he have to bring her here? Why did he have to hurt me like that, pulling me into her sight? Maybe she'll forget about me; I didn't say anything…_

The beautiful soprano voice Lenore had been gifted with in this second life suddenly rang through the house. She was on the stage, singing in Japanese, and Erik's curiosity got the better of him. Slipping into her mind ever so carefully, he located the translation.

If I meet my love, and we part,  
We'll meet again, like we did before.  
The sweet darkness I find  
Fumbling around deep in my memories,

I can taste the sweetness of the past.  
Although you're not anywhere  
I'll be alright,  
If I close my eyes to that,  
Love won't change,  
I believe

When the spring light warms, the flowers bloom  
In summer, I gaze at the moon floating on the sea  
The fall wind, and the winter snow  
With that sigh, I wish to be warmed,  
Four seasons with your love  
Once again.

The promise of that only wish  
Fades away when time passes.  
Can you feel me underneath the skin?  
If feelings again happened that way,  
We'll be alright,  
If I just believe,  
No matter how far away you are,  
Stay with me.

The spring flowers sleep as we meet in the night.  
I leave a message in the sandy beaches of summer.  
The fall rain, the winter tears,  
With a show of love, I wish to be warmed,  
Four seasons with your love  
In a dream.

Time flows into my heart,  
And truthfully,  
Our every day is nearer to a memory,  
Love and dreams may be things forgotten  
one day, but, my wish is to be warmed.  
Four seasons with your love,  
Within my heart.

Foreseen, four seasons,

Foreseen, I'll be alright.

Foreseen, four seasons,

Stay with me.

Erik began to hate himself with a level of self-loathing that surpassed all that had come before. She was waiting for him. And he had walked away from her. _But she's dead. I have her body in a glass coffin…Yet, she chose to live again. I can't just let her leave without ever saying a single word to her, can I?_

Not sure why he was doing this, Erik called out to her from the walls.

Wandering child, so lost, so helpless

Yearning for my guidance.

Your angel, your lover,

Friend and Phantom.

For me you are starving.

Have you forgotten your angel?

Now as I speak, your endless longings

Echo in my whisper.

Too long you've wandered in winter,

Far from my far-reaching gaze.

Wildly your mind beats against me,

But your soul obeys.

My darling, my love,

I denied you,

Turning from true beauty.

Now hear my voice,

I'll not shun you.

Come to your lost angel.

Lenore began to scan the house with her eyes, but Erik couldn't reveal himself to her. The moment she saw him, she gave up every hope of a normal life. _I've been an angel before…I'll do it once again. _Lenore beseeched him in song.

Father did speak of an angel.

I never dreamed he'd appear.

Now as I sing, I can sense you

And I know you're here.

Here in this room, you call so softly

Somewhere inside, hiding.

Somehow I've known you're always with me.

Brilliant, unseen genius.

But no, I must just be dreaming.

Stories like this don't come true.

Now my head's full of riddles,

What should I do?

Angel of Music, guide and guardian,

Grant to me your glory.

Angel of Music, hide no longer.

Come to me, strange angel.

* * *

"Go to her, Erik," Ember and Hiroshi whispered at the same time. They glared at each other briefly for voicing the same thought at the same moment.

"What is wrong with the man? Is he stupid?" Ember grumbled.

"I'm beginning to wonder about his intelligence myself," Hiroshi admitted. "I went to all the trouble of raising her and he's not the slightest bit grateful. Do you realize how much I spent on music lessons and private tutors? How much I spent on Harvard? If I'd known it would be such a waste, I would've never bothered with any of it. Did you know she would have been an orphan if not for me claiming her as my own?"

"Instead of thanking you and taking her back, he wallows in grief in the walls, singing to her rather than just appearing and whisking her away," Ember added. "Who knew Erik was so spineless that he can't even face a woman who loves him?"

"If I'd only known he'd react this way, I would've kept her for my sex toy," Hiroshi commented.

"Pervert! That's my sister you're talking about," Ember said in shock. "And you've been a father figure to her, which makes it entirely wrong."

"I assure you that many fathers are physically intimate with their daughters," Hiroshi replied absently. "And she's not your sister."

"She is too," Ember muttered.

"We may need to take drastic measures, muffin," Hiroshi said decisively. "Are any of your boys brave enough to face almost-certain death?"

"Are you suggesting I have one of my sons court my little sister?"

"No, I'm suggesting you have one of your sons court my daughter."

"Okay…but why would I want any of my children to date the girl Erik loves?"

"Stop being silly, muffin. Erik's the jealous type; if we try to get Lenore interested in another man, Erik will storm out of the woodwork in self-righteous fury," Hiroshi explained.

"I already knew that. I'm more concerned about the part where he slits the other man's throat with his rapier," Ember snarled.

"What's life if you don't take risks now and again, hm?" Hiroshi said with a sadistic smirk. "Honestly, it's not your life you'll be risking anyway."

"True, but I'm kinda attached to my sons. I mean, I only gave birth to them."

"A mere trifle," Hiroshi declared. "If you lose a son, I'll get you another one. I'll even let you have a purebred demon from Hell, if you like. They're very expensive, highly valuable. A good trade, if you ask me."

"You're creepy," Ember mumbled.

"I don't know why everyone thinks that…" Hiroshi lazily glanced down at the stage neither of the two had been watching for the past few minutes. "Maybe we won't have to resort to drastic measures after all; it seems my little kitten's gone missing…"

* * *

Lenore opened the door to the diva's suite cautiously. She was following the voice, and this was the last place she'd heard it coming from. "Are you in here?" she whispered.

"_Come in, and close that door behind you. I can improve your voice, ma petite,_" the disembodied voice promised her. "_Do you wish me to teach you?_"

"Yes, please," Lenore said, trying not to be too eager. It wasn't proper to seem over-eager. "If there's anything you can teach me, I'd love to learn."

There was a sudden knock on the door before it was flung open to admit Madam O'Malley and her father. "What are you doing in here, Lenore?" Madam O'Malley inquired, though the inquiry sounded like a prayer, full of hope.

"I was…" _I can't say I followed a disembodied voice, they'll think I've gone 'round the bend. Though they've both been acting as if they're already in the nut house…_ "I was looking at the diva's suite, to see if I liked it. In case you decide to give me the position."

"Are you sure you don't have any ulterior motives?"

"None whatsoever," Lenore replied with an air of innocence.

"Oh, you perfect little scoundrel," her father mumbled good-naturedly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Father, did you just call me a scoundrel?"

"No, I did not," he said dismissively before turning to Madam O'Malley. "You don't mind if Lenore stays here with you for a bit, right muffin? Unless she didn't make the cut…"

"Well, actually, we were going to ask her to be our diva," Madam O'Malley confessed.

"This works out perfectly then, doesn't it kitten? I'll be in a suite in the Hotel Scribe, not too far away if you feel the need to see me," Hiroshi said. "And remember that you have to ask for Jack Wolfe, not Father."

"I was only eight when that happened," Lenore replied, blushing fiercely at the memory. She'd been angry at him that day when they were visiting London and had stormed out to traipse around by herself. He'd refused to take her to the zoo, because she refused to take her lessons on what she had considered a vacation. When someone had finally been kind enough to see her back to her hotel, she didn't know what suite they were staying in and had asked one of the men at the counter which suite her father was in. She had wanted to go up by herself in the elevator, prove that she was a big girl and could come back on her own.

Once she managed to get everyone out of the room, she quickly locked the door. "Are you still there?" she asked.

"_I am here whenever you require me. I will come at your convenience. Would you like to set a particular time for your lessons, or would you rather have them sporadically?_" the voice replied.

"We should set a time. How about every night at one? No one would be awake at that time," Lenore proposed.

"_We'll try it. If I feel that you aren't getting enough rest, though, we will reschedule our little meetings._"

* * *

"This is rather dull," Hiroshi muttered to himself, sitting in the largest suite the Hotel Scribe had. They'd been in France for almost a month now, and Lenore had yet to visit him. Darius and Erik hadn't stopped by either. "After I went to all that trouble and embarrassed Lenore in front of muffin to make sure Erik would know how to find me."

There was very little for Hiroshi to do with his time in France, and going out for a string of homicides was becoming rather enticing. At least Lenore would be performing in tonight's performance of Carmen. Muffin had tried to hold off on letting Lenore take the stage in the attempts to have Erik whisk the girl away out of frustration that his precious pupil was not being properly fussed over.

"You don't understand, muffin," Hiroshi declared. "Erik's decided to hide in the shadows and content himself with watching her life in secret. He won't take her or even come out of the darkness, unless something threatens his possession over his little darling."

But it did no good, of course. The woman wasn't there to hear that, didn't realize that every effort she was making to have Erik kidnap Lenore would never work.

_I'll have to take things into my own hands, it seems.

* * *

_

"Finally, the violence doth cease," the authoress crowed with joy.

"If you don't untie me this instant, I'll get rather rough with you when I get loose, mademoiselle," Erik snarled from his position on the floor.

"Ooo, promise you'll be rough?" the authoress said, a naughty gleam in her eye.

"I swear, God has some sort of vendetta against me," Erik mumbled.

"God is love," the authoress proclaimed.

"Creampuff, can I suggest you don't take any more medication today?" Hiroshi advised. "I know you're trying to make that Chronic Rhinitis thing bearable, and the cold you caught is only making it worse, but you really need to cut down on the meds. I think it's affecting your brain."

"Oh, fiddle faddle," the authoress said brightly. "Not affecting my brain at all. I can still limp a relatively straight line. And I haven't had any blackouts yet."

"This is going to be a long night," Hiroshi stated. "Please distract the woman with reviews, dear readers. Otherwise Erik and I might have to kill her. And that would really put a damper on the story."


	29. Chapter 29

This is a long part. I cried at the end of it. I hope you all do too. sniffles

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Cahal O'Malley sat on the sofa as the dark-haired Asian had asked him to. "I don't mean any disrespect, Monsieur, but I'm afraid I have no idea what you want with me," Cahal said. Might as well cut right to the chase.

"Well, Cahal – may I call you Cahal? Good. Hm, interesting name. It means 'great warrior', am I correct? I thought so. Well, Cahal, my name is Jack Wolfe. You may know my daughter, Lenore. She's the current diva at your mother's little opera house," Mr. Wolfe said while pouring Cahal a drink. "Here you go, hope it's not too heavy on the liquor for you. To come right to the point, I'm interested in finding a suitable husband for my daughter. You're family is very wealthy and highly thought of. I think it would make an excellent match. You seem to lack a female companion right now, and if it's not too much trouble, I thought you might see if my daughter was to your liking."

"I don't know, Monsieur. I don't normally entertain girls of your daughter's caliber," Cahal stated. He didn't like the rich snotty girls. He preferred sensible, down to earth, middle class girls.

"I'm willing to make it worth your time," Mr. Wolfe replied. "Would fifty thousand Euros a night be acceptable?"

It was an extremely generous offer. Far more than Cahal would ever have expected. "I suppose we could give it a go," Cahal mused. "If things don't go too well after the first night, we can just call it quits."

"Splendid!" Mr. Wolfe declared, an ironically wolfish grin on his face. "I'll give you your first payment now, to show my appreciation."

"Thank you, Monsieur Wolfe," Cahal said politely.

"Oh, call me Jack, everyone knows me by that name," the man stated. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Cahal."

* * *

Lenore quickly shed her costume in her dressing room. The excitement of her first night on the stage still coursed through her veins; the audience had received her very well. And to top it all off, Cahal O'Malley had invited her out to dinner. Father had graciously accepted Cahal's suggestion, saying that he had a friend here in Paris he'd been meaning to catch up with and that Lenore would not be missed at dinner.

She supposed she should have felt bad about breaking her father's plans; she hadn't seen him for almost a month. What with her private lessons from the Voice and rehearsals, she just didn't have the time. And then she broke their dinner date to go out with Cahal.

But it was not breaking her date with her father that bothered her. Her eyes kept sliding to the mirror the Voice seemed to originate from. _Stop it, Lenore! There's no reason to feel disloyal. He never said you couldn't have a boyfriend. And it's not like the two of you have a romantic relationship; he's an angel. Angels don't fall in love with humans._

Dressed and ready to go, she hurried out of her room, pausing long enough to lock it behind her.

"You look lovely," Cahal complimented her when she located him.

"Thank you," she said appreciatively. "So where are we going?"

"Les Grandes Marches," Cahal answered brightly.

Lenore couldn't help but gasp. It was incredibly expensive to eat there, and it was very common to find the place teeming with actors, designers, and well-known opera singers. Granted, she was an opera singer herself now… "You don't think that will seem too presumptuous, do you?" she asked worriedly.

"Not a bit. Anyone who heard you sing tonight will tell you that you'll be the most successful diva of all time," Cahal responded.

* * *

Erik stood behind the mirror, wondering where Lenore was. The performance had ended half an hour ago, and he'd given her that time to get back to her room and change. His critique for her performance was all prepared. Yes, she had done well. But there were a few things that could be improved. Erik began running through her performance again in his mind, trying to think of anything he might have missed while he waited. Perhaps Hiroshi was holding her up a bit.

"She won't be coming in for quite some time, Erik," Hiroshi said behind him in the tunnel.

_How did he manage to get in here without my noticing? Oh well, nothing to do about it now._ "Don't be ridiculous, there's nothing out there to keep her very long at all," Erik argued. Not even adoring fans would keep her from Erik for too long. She was far too devoted to Erik for that.

"Lenore is out to dinner with Cahal O'Malley. I'm sure you know Ember's eldest son," Hiroshi said. Of course Erik knew Cahal; through a rather bizarre twist of events, Erik had ended up delivering the child. As a result, he had been named the godfather. He never saw the boy except through the walls, though.

"That's ridiculous; the boy's five years younger than Lenore. I highly doubt any sixteen year old boy is going to take a twenty one year old woman out to dine. He wouldn't have the resources for it," Erik countered.

"His parents are rather wealthy…and don't you think Ember wants to get Lenore back into the family? What better way than through a marriage?" Hiroshi replied. "I must say, it's about time Lenore had a suitor. I can picture it all now. Cahal will nervously put his hand on Lenore's, and she'll blush innocently. Then he'll lean in, and Lenore's eyes will flutter closed as she waits to experience her first kiss. Then a devastating flood of hormones will drown them and Cahal will bed her before the night is done."

"No! She wouldn't! He won't touch her, or I'll kill him!" Erik snarled. "What's wrong with you, Hiroshi? You've raised her as your own and you let her go gallivanting around Paris with a sixteen year old boy that I know for a fact has seduced more middle class maidens into his bed than Don Juan could have managed!"

"Sex is fun," Hiroshi responded with a shrug. "Speaking of which, I've got a ballet girl waiting in my suite back at the hotel. I'll be sure not to kill her; I wouldn't want you to have to go to the trouble of replacing her. I may think of Lenore as my daughter, Erik, but you can't hold onto your children forever."

That being said, Hiroshi turned and disappeared into the darkness, taking his own way out. Erik realized his fists were clenched tightly and he was shaking with rage. She couldn't go out to dinner with another man, she would never think of it. The boy must have tricked her into it. And if that boy touched her…godson or no, he'd kill the fool who had the audacity to touch his Lenore.

* * *

Lenore giggled as she unlocked her door, Cahal standing beside her and giggling as well. So maybe they'd had a bit too much wine with dinner. It wasn't a crime, was it?

"You can't come in," Lenore giggled when Cahal tried to follow her into the diva's suite. "What would people say?"

"Who cares what they'd say?" Cahal chuckled back. "We're young, they expect us to do these kinds of things."

"You'd better go; if Father finds out, he'd rip you to shreds," Lenore said, trying to be more serious. "Besides, it's not proper for a lady to have a gentleman in her room. Now if we'd gone to your room first…"

"Well now I know for future reference that it pays to bring the lady to your room before you drop her off at hers," Cahal said good-naturedly. "Let's go out again tomorrow night."

"I don't think I have any pressing social engagements, tomorrow should be just fine," she decided. Cahal pulled her in for a kiss and it was a good ten minutes later before she shut the door, finally done with saying good night.

"_Are you incapable of reading a watch?_" the Voice inquired, ominously soft.

"Of course I can tell time," she mumbled, looking at her watch. _Oh dear, it's almost two o'clock…_ "I'm sorry, I was asked out to dinner and I was detained."

"_Yes, I could see that. It seems you find entertaining young boys more important than your career._"

"I only missed one lesson," Lenore pointed out. "It's not as if I've made of habit of abandoning lessons to be with boys."

"_Missing one lesson leads to missing another, and another, and another. I will not teach someone who has no dedication! You must discard all earthly desires if you wish to achieve your full potential._"

"Well then maybe I don't want to reach my full potential," Lenore said angrily. "You're not human, you don't understand what it's like to crave a lover."

"_Temptation is placed in your path to determine whether or not you are strong enough to overcome it! You are weak, girl! If you continue giving into temptations, you'll end up in Hell. Is that what you want?_"

"If that's the price of love, then so be it," she snapped. "I'm tired of dreaming about a great love every night and knowing that when I wake up, it won't be real. A boy asked me out, and it's just possible he's the one God intended me to live my life with. But I'll never know if I don't get to know him."

"_You can take my word for it that he is not the one you were meant for,_" the Voice said somewhat sadly. "_Do not let Satan tempt you into straying from the path God has planned for you._"

"Well then what is my path?" she cried in frustration. "What I am supposed to do with my life?"

"_You are meant to lift the souls of mortals with your voice. To make them hear as they'd never heard before._"

"That's it? I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I was hoping for something a bit more meaningful," Lenore admitted.

"_It is a great responsibility, ma petite. Never think that it's not important. It's everything. After all, if it weren't meaningful, you wouldn't have an angel teaching you to develop your gift, now would you?_"

"I suppose you're right. I'm sorry. Sometimes, I just don't understand why I'm here. I feel like I'm supposed to be going somewhere or doing something, and instead I'm just drifting aimlessly through darkness, trying to find the light," she confessed. Her angel probably already knew all this, but it felt good to just say it.

"_I'm afraid you won't ever find that light, Lenore._"

"Oh, have I done something wrong?" she asked, afraid she had committed a sin that wouldn't be forgiven. She couldn't think of any…but…

"_You are the light, child. You guide others through the darkness._"

"Really?" she said breathlessly. To think that she was that important…

"_Yes, that's why you must rid yourself of all mortal weakness. Otherwise, poor souls will be left stumbling about the dark, searching for you yet unable to find you._"

* * *

"It's my turn to listen," Ember hissed at Hiroshi, who had his ear on the glass pressed to the door.

"Quiet muffin, I can't hear when you're complaining," Hiroshi replied.

"Don't call me muffin!"

"Didn't I just tell you to shush?"

"It's my opera house, don't tell me to be quiet."

"It's my daughter he's talking to, so don't think you have any right to hear the conversation," Hiroshi snapped back.

"She's my sister, you know."

"How many times do I have to tell you that Lenore isn't your sister?"

"As many times as I claim her as my sister for the rest of eternity, asshole," Ember snarled. She didn't care what he said; as far as she was concerned, that was her sister in there.

Hiroshi moved without thinking. In a flash, Ember was out cold on the floor. "That's for annoying me," Hiroshi muttered. "Oh, damn you!" He had used the glass to knock her unconscious, and it was now shattered pieces on the floor.

* * *

"I know it's late, but I can still have a lesson?" Lenore asked.

Erik held back a sigh. This wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to just slide back the mirror and steal her away. _But if I do that, I'll ruin her life all over again. It's bad enough I'm lying to her. Pretending to be an angel and telling her what God has in store for her. It's really quite hilarious. _But if that was the case, why wasn't he laughing?

"No, there will be no lesson tonight," he finally said. "Perhaps it will serve to remind you that worldly desires exact a cost. Besides, you should get your rest; you've had a late night."

Lenore wasted no time in retiring, and when the light when out, Erik began to sing to her, the usual Ave Maria that was used to wrap up the lesson and put her to sleep. When he was sure she was asleep, he slid back the mirror and entered the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he gently stroked her hair.

One thing that he knew had not changed about her was her masks. She hid herself, though with much more efficiency than before. Not even Hiroshi knew her half as well as he thought he did. Lenore played the part of a proper, high class daughter for Hiroshi, the perfect devoted little Christian for Erik, a lady of the highest caliber for the rest of the world.

"This is the closest we'll ever come," Erik whispered. "I can't ask you to give up a chance for a normal life and live with me below the surface. I'm so sorry to hurt you like this, Lenore. But it's better this way…for both of us."

* * *

Hiroshi slipped into the room as quiet as a cat stalking a mouse. In a sense, it was quite the opposite; a mouse stalking a cat. A very dangerous and risky business this was. Erik was sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Hiroshi, gently caressing Lenore.

_Oh, you couldn't have arranged yourself more perfectly if you tried, Erik._

With all the strength he could muster, Hiroshi grabbed Erik by the back of his head and pushed him down so that his lips crashed into Lenore's. "Oops, how terribly clumsy of me," Hiroshi chuckled, already retreating.

* * *

Lenore was startled awake by something crashing into her face. In the darkness, she could make out the face of a man, his lips pressed to hers. She screamed into his mouth, afraid she was going to be raped.

The man pulled back quickly, and when she prepared to let out another scream, his hand closed upon her throat, constricting her airway to the point that she could barely breathe. She was dragged out of bed and she became convince she was being kidnapped for ransom. Father was an extremely wealthy man, it was quite conceivable that she'd be ransomed for an extortionate sum.

She was pulled across her room to the mirror, which was curiously missing, exposing a dark tunnel. Once they entered the menacing corridor, the man slid her mirror back into place with ease. _The Voice…it was a man, tricking me into trusting him! Oh holy crap, what if he saw me changing at some point?_

An iron grip was placed upon her right forearm and her throat was finally released. She gulped in air, making a few weak attempts at an audible scream that all ended in failure. The man hauled her through the darkness, taking her down into the earth. _Oh God, he's gonna kill me and leave my body down here._

Lenore stumbled through the darkness, tripping occasionally because he was going at a rather fast pace. The overwhelming blackness seemed to swallow everything, and Lenore was terrified. _"You are the light, child."_ But she couldn't trust that, now that she knew the Voice wasn't angelic.

_Well, I'm a complete idiot! I should've seen this one coming. I'm the diva of the Paris Opera House, hearing a voice that is teaching me to sing…how did it not occur to me before that this screams "Phantom of the Opera"?_

"Listen, you psycho copycat kidnapper! If you don't slow down right now, I'm going to beat the crap out of you," Lenore threatened.

"Try it and you'll find out how pathetically weak you are," the man replied.

Lenore began her assault on the man, kicking and hitting whatever she could find in the darkness. More than half her blows missed completely, and only about a third of the blows that didn't find air barely grazed him.

"Damnit, let me go!" she yelled, trying to wrench her arm out of his grip.

"Why must you always be so damn difficult?" the man snarled.

"Like you even know anything about me."

Suddenly, Lenore was yanked in front of the man and a finger forced her chin up as he captured her lips with his own. Heat and passion flooded her body. There was some strange familiarity in this kiss, though she'd never been kissed before tonight with Cahal.

When he broke the kiss, Lenore was paralyzed. She couldn't move, couldn't seem to think. It was as if her mind had been switched off. She gasped for air, breathless from the fiery passion that had threatened to consume her. Her knees felt weak, and she didn't know if she'd be able to stand much longer.

Her legs were swept out from under her and the man carried her in his arms as he continued to make his way through the dark labyrinth. It felt so familiar…and…right. Those terrifyingly strong arms that somehow made her feel safe. The scent of his aftershave…it was all there in her memory. But she'd never met this man before, not that she was aware of. And no man had ever carried her like this except her father, on occasions when she'd been too tired to even make it up the stairs to bed.

"I can walk," Lenore claimed. "You don't have to carry me."

"You're extremely light; it's not a problem, ma chérie," the man responded.

"Don't call me that; I don't know you, you don't know me, and I'm far too proper to allow that kind of familiarity with a stranger who's kidnapping me," Lenore informed him coldly. She had actually liked him showing familiarity; after all, she hadn't had a boyfriend yet, unless you counted Cahal, and they'd only gone on one date.

"Don't make me laugh; you're far from proper. You just play that little role for the world, it's not who you are," the man replied. "You cannot hide yourself from me, Lenore. I know you better than anyone else."

Every word he said made the man seem more recognizable. She knew that voice, he was someone important to her…"Have we met before?" Lenore asked. She couldn't remember, but she felt like she should. _I didn't ever hit my head and get amnesia as a child…_

"Once upon a dream, darling," he said softly.

"Why the hell did I go and wake up?" she muttered to herself, making sure to speak very softly so he wouldn't hear.

"Because every dream must come to an end."

_How the hell did he hear me?_

"I heard you because you're quite incapable of being quiet."

"Holy"-

"Be careful with your language," he interrupted. "Profanity is a sin."

"How are you doing that? Tell me how," she demanded. After all, it wasn't inconceivable that some people were telepathic.

"People aren't telepathic," he said simply. "I just happen to be able to read your mind; does it matter how I do it?"

"If you know how, you should be able to teach me," Lenore argued. "And you will teach me, or else I'll beat you to death."

"It's not something that can just simply be taught," he sighed. "It's far more complicated than that. And I will not teach you, seeing as how you're incapable of learning."

"I graduated from Harvard; I'm capable of learning anything."

"Learn to fly without the aid of an airplane, and I'll teach you how to read minds," the man retorted.

"Smartass," she grumbled. "You're annoying."

"I suppose some things never change," he chuckled.

Moments later, the man placed her in a boat. _Oh, you're an idiot. I can swim, I'm not going to sit in this boat while you row us to wherever the hell you're taking me. _He began poling out over the dark water. _Perfect._ She slipped over the side quickly, plunging into the freezing lake.

Despite the fact that they were still close to the shore, the water was far deeper than she had anticipated. She kicked her way to the surface, trying to block out the cold. Lenore spluttered when she broke the surface; the cold made it harder to breathe, or so it seemed. Before she had a chance to start moving in any direction, she was roughly yanked out of the water and unceremoniously dropped on the bottom of the boat.

"You only succeeded in getting yourself drenched, and you'll most likely catch cold now," the man said tiredly. "Let's not waste time with that pointless exercise again."

"Fuck off, you can't tell me not to try to escape," Lenore stammered, shivering uncontrollably. A heavy cloak was dropped on her and she quickly (and rather furiously) pushed the fabric down off her face.

"I believe I already informed you that profanity is not acceptable. This is the last warning I will give you," the man said sternly.

"You suck," she mumbled.

"I rather can't help it; your breasts are quite delicious."

_The nerve of this man! How dare he insinuate something like that? I've never-_ Quickly scrambling out from beneath the cloak, she gave him a good hard shove. The resulting splash was quite appreciated.

"Damn wench!" he yelled when he surfaced.

"Maybe that will wash your naughty thoughts away," Lenore replied smugly. The man climbed back into the boat without upsetting it the slightest bit. As soon as he was back in the boat, he slapped her across the face. "How dare you! When I get away, I'm filing charges," Lenore claimed, a hand gently holding her stinging cheek.

"If you continue to be difficult, I'll throw you out and leave you for the Siren," the man threatened.

"Am I'm supposed to believe that some horrible man-eating creature lives in this lake? Please, I'm far too old for stories like that," she returned.

"Why would I bother to lie about this?"

"Because you're trying to scare me."

"If you don't believe me, then feel free to leap out to your death," the man snarled. "You might have to wait a few minutes for her to get here though; she has a rather large territory and can't be everywhere at once."

"Oh yeah, I'm just gonna wait a few minutes in freezing cold water so I can contract hypothermia and then hallucinate your little siren," Lenore retorted. "You're not going to trick me that easily."

* * *

Erik took her arm and dunked her over the side of the gondola. He kept a tight hold on her, and she squirmed in his grip, making quite a disturbance in the lake's waters. That was sure to get the siren's attention, if they hadn't managed it already.

"Let go of me!" Lenore demanded, splashing around wildly beside the boat in his grip. She gave a sudden scream as she was tugged downward.

Erik jerked her back into the boat, pulling the siren up out of the water. The bitch was hanging on to Lenore's foot as though she were starving for flesh. Well, truthfully the siren was. It'd been twenty one years since anyone had wandered down here.

The siren opened her mouth to claim Lenore, but Erik cut her off. "Do not cross me, bitch, I'm in a foul mood as it is," he hissed. The siren quickly released Lenore, plunging back down into darkness as fast as her fins could take her.

"That was…amazing," Lenore finally said, staring at the water where the siren had disappeared. "I need to write this down. Do you have any idea how scientifically valuable that creature is?"

"Considerably less valuable than myself," Erik muttered. What scientists would give to have Erik open on their examination table, trying to figure out how he was immortal. "Put that cloak on or you'll catch your death down here."

"Yeah, right," she said distractedly, putting the cloak around her shoulders as she continued to stare out into the waters. "Can you call her back? I've got some questions for her…"

"He should have known better than to send you to Harvard," Erik said under his breath.

"Does she know how to talk? Is it a different language? What does she eat? How long is the average siren's lifespan? Are sirens aggressive by nature or did something cause her violent nature tonight?"

"She knows how to talk, it's the same language we're speaking right now, she eats humans, her average lifespan is somewhere between forever and eternity, and she's the most violent bitch you'll meet," Erik answered, resuming his position and poling further across the lake.

"Well, I'd still like to study her," Lenore muttered, staring wistfully behind them where the siren had been last seen.

"If you're quiet for the rest of the night, I'll let you study me," Erik proposed. Not that she knew the value of what he was suggesting. Not that she would remain silent anyway.

"Pervert."

"Something I share with your father."

"You're extremely rude, you know that? My father is not a pervert."

"With all due respect, you've never seen him with a woman."

"There's his secretary," Lenore argued.

"Oh? Is that wrinkly old prune who goes by the name of Kimberly Irving still trailing after him like a lost little puppy?" Erik inquired. 'Kimberly' was a half-demon who been foolish enough to develop a crush on Hiroshi.

"Who are you? How do you know so much about my father?" Lenore asked suspiciously.

"I've been acquainted with your father for more years than you can imagine." Erik knew she was about to ask how long that was. "Hold your tongue, girl, your inquiries tire me," he said truthfully.

"Will you throw me in the lake again if I'm not quiet?"

"No, I'll chain you to my bed and fuck you senseless," Erik responded; the idea of being thrown in the lake was far too appealing to her. Lenore fell silent. _Silence truly is golden. I thought she'd never shut up.

* * *

_

The man reached his destination and took her up in his arms again. With a few steps, they went from total darkness to a room lit by candles and a dying fire in the hearth. Lenore finally got a look at her captor. A white mask covered the right half of his face, and his ice blue eyes pierced her mind straight to her soul. Then she noticed his slicked back, dark brown hair and the old-fashioned evening attire…

"Erik? Erik Dessler? What do you think you're doing? My father does not associate with scoundrels, so I demand that you apologize for you dreadful actions immediately, as a proper gentleman!" Lenore said.

"It would be a high compliment to call your father a scoundrel; he's much worse than that, I assure you. I apologize for nothing, as your 'father' is responsible for it all," Erik informed her. "And what I am doing, ma chouchoute, is giving in to your father's mad idea so that we can both be utterly destroyed by the time all is said and done."

"You're insane! My father"-

A hidden door suddenly swung open off the side of the room the fireplace was on, and shockingly enough, her father stepped out looking as if he belonged there. "It's very nice, Erik. Very nice indeed. Absolutely beautiful," her father commented. "Oh, what a surprise to see you here, kitten."

"Father, this man has kidnapped me from my bed! He's been making a multitude of indecent remarks that compromise my honor, and"-

"I know, pussy. It took him forever to decide to take you," her father said sympathetically, closing the door to the room he had come from before she could see anything. "I really hoped he'd work up the courage to whisk you away himself. But it seemed he needed a bit of help. I hope you don't mind. And as to him making indecent remarks…well, what man can help himself, you're just so beautiful."

"You're both positively mad!" Lenore declared. "Let me go, right now, or I'll call the police!"

"Go right ahead; I'd rather like to see how you manage it without a phone," Erik said carelessly.

"Kindly point me in the direction of a private room, sir," Lenore demanded. Erik raised an eyebrow curiously and remained silent. "I am about to have a tantrum, and I'd rather do that where no one has to witness it."

"You're too old for that, kitten," Hiroshi said. "If you have a problem, it won't solve anything to go off and scream your lungs out. Be a woman and discuss the whole thing calmly."

"Calmly," Lenore repeated, taking a deep breath. "I can do that." She took another deep breath. "A PSYCHOTIC PHANTOM OF THE OPERA COPYCAT HAS KIDNAPPED ME AND IS HOLDING ME UNDERGROUND, AND MY OWN FATHER ENCOURAGED AND ASSISTED IN MY ABDUCTION! I WANT ERIK IN A PROPER MENTAL INSTITUTION AND I DEMAND THAT YOU SEE A PSYCHIATRIST, FATHER! IS THAT CALM ENOUGH FOR YOU?"

"Oh, Erik, you weren't too beastly, were you?" her father said worriedly.

"No more than I had to be," Erik replied.

Lenore just gaped. They were discussing this as calmly as if she'd just said she'd like a cup of tea at their earliest convenience, thank you very much. Sighting a small dagger tucked into the edge of Erik's boot, she quickly snatched it out and backed away from the two men. "Don't move, either of you," she commanded.

"Erik, you have to pay close attention when Lenore's around sharp objects," her father stated. "She hasn't been allowed to touch anything sharper than a table knife since that time she shaved the cat. Poor thing…"

"Shut up!" Lenore barked.

"What happened to the cat?" Erik inquired, completely ignoring her.

"Oh, Hades hid under the couch for two weeks. He finally came out because he was starving. I don't think the poor animal ever really got over it; Hades spent the rest of his life under that couch, except when he came out to eat," her father explained.

"So I cut him a few times while I was shaving him! It's not a crime!" Lenore snapped. "And it's your fault anyway. If you hadn't insisted the tutor teach me about animal sacrifices, I wouldn't have shaved Hades."

"Were you going to sacrifice the cat?" her father suddenly addressed her. She'd told him when it happened that she wanted to know what color the cat's skin was.

"So what if I was?"

"Who were you going to sacrifice him to?"

"I hadn't decided yet. I was thinking about God or else the Egyptian Divinities," Lenore admitted.

"You stole my incense! I wondered where it had disappeared to," her father griped.

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I took it for educational purposes," Lenore snapped.

"What kind of education did you give her, Hiroshi?" Erik inquired. It took Lenore a moment to realize he had addressed her father.

"Only the best," Hiroshi replied before turning back to Lenore. "And how is stealing my incense educational? Trying to learn the art of larceny?"

"People make sacrifices when they pray so they stand a better chance of getting what they want," Lenore said. "I wanted to see if it really worked that way."

"You weren't going to waste a divinity's time begging for that doll house you wanted, were you?" Hiroshi accused.

"No. I was going to ask for a mother," Lenore replied. Then she realized they were getting horribly off topic. Brandishing the knife furiously, she glared at both men. "Now, you're going to take me back up, this minute. Then Erik, you'll commit yourself to an institution where they can help you, and Father, you'll see that psychiatrist."

"Quite demanding, isn't she?" Erik commented.

"I suppose I shouldn't have spoiled her half as much as I did. But she was my little princess, I wanted her to be happy…" Hiroshi added.

"And if you know what's good for you, you'll keep me happy," Lenore snapped. "Now get moving or I start stabbing."

"Well, Erik, I think you ought to do it," Hiroshi said firmly. "It's your knife, and your fault she has it in the first place."

Lenore suddenly felt…well, the only way to describe it was a presence…in her mind. She couldn't move at all and Erik leisurely strolled over and took the knife from her. "Give it back," she hissed, though she knew that she wasn't going to be able to intimidate him at all without a weapon.

"No. You might go out there and scale the siren to satisfy your scientific curiosity. I'd rather not have that bitch hiding under the sofa for the rest of eternity," Erik replied.

"Hades wasn't hiding, he just liked it under there," Lenore snarled in self-defense.

"Of course he liked it under there, it was safe," Hiroshi said with a chuckle. "Erik likes it down here, because it's safe. Now, if you aren't comfortable down here, hide under Erik's bed. It should make you feel safe."

"Heaven help me, lunacy is an epidemic in this Opera House!" she declared, feeling the presence recede from her mind when Erik slipped the knife back into his boot. She looked around wildly for an object to bludgeon the men with, should she need to.

"Oh dear, Erik, I'm afraid this little excursion isn't going well at all," Hiroshi sighed.

"What was your first clue, Sherlock?" Lenore shouted.

"I'm afraid there's nothing else to do," Hiroshi said sadly. "You'll have to fuck her right now."

Lenore snugged herself up against the wall in fear. "Father, what is wrong with you? You can't mean any of this. Just come back to me, be sane for a moment," she pleaded.

"I'm perfectly sane right now, kitten. Quite a surprise actually, after twenty two years of refraining from homicide," Hiroshi said. "I have missed it something awful, but there just wasn't time for it what with raising you. Perhaps I should see if I can't find myself a nice little prostitute to play with…" That said, he headed for the door.

"Father! Don't leave me here, you can't leave me here. He's mad!" Lenore exclaimed.

"To quote the cat in that cartoon movie you so adored when you were five, "Most everyone's mad here." Have fun, darling, and don't do anything I would expect a proper lady to," Hiroshi said, giving a bow and sweeping out the door with elegance.

"That line…was it a reference to Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland?" Erik inquired, seemingly undisturbed that Lenore was trembling against the wall.

"Yes," she answered timidly.

"Quite a strange story, that was. I didn't particularly care for it; Alice was such an ignorant child," he remarked. "But then again, I've never really enjoyed children's literature. It's usually written quite poorly and everything is resolved so unbelievably easy."

"It's not children's literature. There're plenty of adults who love the story," Lenore argued. Maybe if she could keep him talking about trivial things like books, she could manage to find a way out of this situation.

"Then there are many adults who are exceptionally ignorant," Erik replied. "Or perhaps they just enjoy the idea of a fantasy world were nothing is what it seems. Some people just adore being deceived by illusions. Is that how you feel, Lenore? Do you wish you could go to Wonderland, where everything seems less problematic and easy to resolve?"

"It certainly seems appealing at the moment," Lenore mumbled.

"Well, I'd like to remind you that Alice found three inches tall to be a rather dreadful height and I'd advise you not to eat or drink anything," Erik chuckled. "Certainly don't go among mad people, and be careful when playing Croquet with the Queen. Assuming you know how to play at all, that is."

"Stop making fun of me," Lenore commanded.

"Alice had no sense whatsoever," Erik continued more seriously. "Her only concern when she was shrinking was that she should wink herself out of existence. Which would be much kinder than the alternative; imagine if she'd been stuck at three inches for the rest of her life."

_Lord, he's really lost it. Who delves that deeply into a kid's story? Oh, there I go. I just told him it's not only for children and then I go and contradict myself._

"Just think about it for a moment. How much larger the world would be! For example, mademoiselle, if you were three inches tall, I would be roughly twenty seven times larger than you. I could easily hold you in the palm of my hand," Erik said casually. "And that silly little girl never thought of such things. It would make a normal life quite impossible."

Lenore thought about it as he had requested and realized he was quite right. She herself had never thought about it that way. She'd only ever thought how many places one could get into if one was only three inches tall. It would make it easier to see the veins running through leaves or to follow an earthworm (or any other insect) and learn about their behavioral patterns. But now, thinking of herself in the palm of Erik's hand, she knew she'd be frightened half to death if she were that small.

"Let's talk about something else…Do you have a favorite book?" Lenore asked.

"Beauty and the Beast," he replied without missing a beat. "It was the only one that ended well for the monster."

"But the Beast wasn't a monster, he was a man under a curse," Lenore pointed out.

"Did you even read the book? He begins as a monster, and ends as a man," Erik argued. "I especially like the villianization of the father. What man gives his daughter to a monster to save his own life?"

"That's a loaded question," Lenore grumbled, glaring at the door.

* * *

"Don't get such noble thoughts, dear. You haven't been sacrificed for a life, you've been given to me for my enjoyment," Erik said, a little smirk gracing his face. It was an effort to get her to argue with him when he wanted her to now. He remembered how a simple word used to set her off, but she seemed determined to try to be a proper lady who didn't argue at all. But surely that last comment would get her temper to flare.

Her silence was terribly irksome. _Hiroshi, if you've turned her into an obedient girl who believes women are to be seen and not heard, I'll kill you. I don't want a slave._

"Traded, my sweet, as though you were a toy he grew tired of," Erik attempted.

"Oh? Then what's expected of me? Am I to lay on your bed and let you rape me as often as you please? Or am I to follow you around like a loyal puppy? Or perhaps you wish me to cook and clean for you," Lenore suggested. "I will not be used, you bastard, so don't even entertain those thoughts."

Erik supposed that would have to do. It wasn't quite the standard he was used to, but Lenore had hidden her fiery spirit all these years. He couldn't expect it to just come out in full force immediately. "Stop cowering over there and have a seat," he instructed, gesturing to the sofa. "I'm not going to hurt you."

She approached slowly, the very picture of an animal that was ready to bolt at the slightest hint of movement. When she finally managed to sit down on the sofa, staring at him warily, Erik walked over to the sofa and sat beside her. She began to jump up immediately, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back down. "Don't get up on my account," he said bitterly. Why couldn't the girl just trust him?

"Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. It's just that there's so little room on the couch, I thought I'd be more comfortable in the chair," she replied innocently.

"If that's the case…" Erik trailed off, standing up. He picked her up off the couch and carried her over to the chair, sitting down and planting her firmly on his lap. "There. Problem solved. I must agree, this is much better then the sofa."

"Oh, loads better. So glad I thought of it," she muttered.

"Now, in a few moments, we'll retire. But one thing I've noticed is that you seem to adore asking questions. So every night, before bed, you may ask me one question, and I will answer you to the best of my ability. Of course, you may choose not to ask anything, that's entirely up to you," Erik said. Hopefully, an evening ritual such as this would help her to trust him. "So, do you have a question for me?"

"How long are you going to keep me here?"

She would pick the one question he couldn't answer. He could say 'forever' and scare her half to death. He could say 'as long as it takes for you to wish to stay of your own accord' and then Lenore would stubbornly decide to never want to be there willingly, just to spite him. "As long as I wish," Erik finally responded. It was the only one that gave her no length of time whatsoever. She would know that her captivity depended entirely upon his whims and not her actions.

"And how long is that?" she challenged.

"I said one question a night, and you've already had your question," Erik reminded her. Knowing she would object to sharing a bed with him, Erik decided to sing her to sleep. She could object all she liked when she woke up, but she wouldn't be able to change the fact that he'd laid in bed with her.

How will I start  
Tomorrow without you here?  
Who's heart will guide me  
When all the answers disappear?

Is it too late?  
Are you too far gone to stay?  
This one's forever,  
Should never have to go away.

What will I do?  
You know I'm only half without you.  
How will I make it through?

If only tears could bring you back to me,  
If only love could find a way.  
What I would do, what I would give  
If you returned to me someday  
Somehow, someway.  
If my tears could bring you back to me.

I'd cry you an ocean  
If you'd sail on home again.  
Wings of emotion  
Will carry you, I know they can.

Just let love guide you  
And your heart will chart the course.  
Soon you'll be drifting  
Into the arms of your true north.

Look in my eyes,  
you'll see a million tears have gone by  
And still they're not dry.

If only tears could bring you back to me,  
If only love could find a way.  
What I would do, what I would give  
If you returned to me someday  
Somehow, someway.  
If my tears could bring you back to me.

I'd hold you close,  
And shout the words I only whispered before.  
For one more chance, for one last dance  
There's nothing that I would not endure.

If only tears could bring you back to me,  
If only love could find a way.  
What I would do, what I would give  
If you returned to me someday  
Somehow, someway.  
If my tears could bring you back to me.

Lenore was fast asleep in his arms, snuggling into his embrace like a child. He adored these moments, when he didn't have to worry about the fact that she didn't remember him. He took her into the bedroom, and placed her in the bed he had neglected to sleep in for almost twenty two years.

He would return in a few moments, but there was something he had to do first. Going to what had once been his guest room, Erik paused in the doorway as the icy cold air swept out to meet him. Somehow, he was feeling terribly guilty.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I keep breaking my promise more and more each day. I hope you understand, and don't mind if I spend the night with her instead." He walked into the room, going to stand beside the glass coffin where Lenore Parker, the greatest love of his life, lay. He had to keep the room so cold to preserve her body, but he didn't care. Erik had lain on the floor of this room every night for the past twenty one years, leaving Lenore's side only for auditions or to eat. He had given up composing just to be near her. "I promised I would never leave you, and I've upheld that promise for many years. I know she's not you, but she used to be. I'll bring you back to her, back here with me where you belong."

* * *

The authoress sobbed into the tissue Hiroshi had handed her. "I don't care if you review this time or not. I'd really like you to, but it's so…" The authoress returned to sobbing into a fresh tissue, handing the used one to Erik.

"It's alright," Hiroshi assured the authoress, patting her on the shoulder.

"If anyone should be crying, it's me," Erik pointed out. "And I've found the inner strength to resist."

"You're a man, what do you know?" the authoress wept.

"I agree," Lenore sniffled, hugging the authoress and crying with her.


	30. Chapter 30

Another long part, 7000+ words...

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore was dreaming again, that nightmare she'd been having since she was eighteen. 

_Darkness, a starless black night that promised no mercy, encompassed her. She tried to run, hoping to find a way out of the darkness, some sort of light perhaps. But Lenore couldn't move. She struggled with every ounce of strength she possessed, but her legs were firmly pinned in place. The horrible stench of smoke filled her nose and she coughed before desperately increasing her effort to get away. Flames sprang into life in front of her, and she knew that no matter how she wriggled, she wasn't going to get out of this. There was no escape, no matter how much she might fight, for death was inevitable. No mercy, no mercy anywhere. Not from God, or any other supreme being._

_But suddenly, there was a gentle hand upon her cheek, a lover's caress. The fire was left behind to be replaced by a different sort of flames; the flames of lust. Gentle kisses were trailed down her abdomen and her lover's tongue began to pay special attentions to the area between her legs. A few minutes later, his mouth moved back up her body, now busying itself with her breasts as he began grinding his hips against hers. She opened her eyes and saw the top of her lover's head, and found herself pressing gentle kisses into his dark brown hair._

_She tugged at the waistband of his pants, wanting him as naked as she herself was. He complied, and she found her hand being directed on how to please him. When he let her continue on her own, she let go of his manhood, gently brushing her fingers down the length of it. He enjoyed it immensely, for he groaned her name. Moments later, he dropped back down onto her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. Their tongues battled for domination, but he won in the end._

_He pushed himself up, and just before he plunged into her, Lenore saw his face clearly._

Jerking awake, finding herself quite breathless from the dream, Lenore stared at the ceiling in shock. For the past three weeks, her usual nightmare had ended before the pain came, with a lover's touch that took her from the fear of death to the pleasure of physical love. But before now, she had never really seen the man that made love to her.

_How is it that my dream lover is Erik? True, I met him the week before those erotic dreams began, but…How can I lust after a man I don't know who's now gone and kidnapped me?_

"Is something the matter, Lenore?" Erik inquired, his voice right next to her ear.

"AAAGGGHHH!" she shrieked, not expecting the man to be in bed with her. "What in the name of God do you think you're doing? Pervert!"

"Well, I'm certainly not doing anything in the name of God," he replied.

That was when Lenore noticed she was wearing a rather large shirt (probably one of Erik's). "You…where are my clothes?" she hissed indignantly, sitting up lest she need to bolt. Erik had no place undressing her!

"I hung them in the bathroom to dry, ma petite," Erik explained. "I couldn't let you spend the night in damp clothes, you'd get horribly sick."

"That does not justify undressing me! You should've woken me up instead of doing it yourself!" she complained.

"Don't get yourself all worked up, I've seen you naked many times, chérie," Erik responded, sitting up himself.

She smacked at him repeatedly in the dark. "You're a disgusting, perverted bastard!"

Erik grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. "And you're a woman who wants to have sex but thinks it improper to do so before marriage," he whispered huskily.

"How did you know that?" she inquired, her voice trembling.

"You've always been that way," he replied. "You think that the pleasures of your body are meant to be shared only with that one man you'll spend the rest of your life with."

"It's not wrong to want that," she said defensively.

"I never said it was. I rather expect my wife to devote herself entirely to me," Erik returned.

* * *

Having had her before, Erik knew exactly how to please her. It was just a matter of whether or not Lenore would let him. Her heart was racing with the fear of being restrained, but he knew she was enjoying it. He could see flickers of lust in her blue eyes. 

Taking her in his arms, he pulled her close and stole a kiss. She pressed herself closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sliding her hands into his hair. Slowly, he lowered her onto the bed, and when they broke contact, she was gasping for air and staring at him, eyes full of wonder.

"What are you doing to me?" she whispered.

"Your heart is the one that's doing things to you, darling," he replied. "And your hormones certainly aren't helping."

It was at that exact moment that the alarm on her watch began to go off. _She has the thing set for quarter of six? She never gets up that early. _And shortly after her watch started beeping madly, there was a knock on his front door.

Silently cursing whoever had come to visit, Erik let go of her and strode out to the door in a fury. He yanked the door open and found Ember standing there, arms over her chest. He had told Ember how to enter the underground without tripping the alarm and taught her a path to his house twenty years ago. She very rarely visited, usually just once a year to visit Lenore's tomb.

"What do you want, Madam O'Malley?" he snapped, irritated at being interrupted when he was with Lenore.

"I want my diva back, Erik!" she proclaimed, putting her hands on her hips and looking every inch the angry mother who was about to scold a mischievous child for his latest prank. "She's got warm ups at six, surely you didn't forget that? And of course you didn't forget about the rehearsal starting at seven!"

_Damn. _"I'll give her the required warm up myself, and return her in time for your silly rehearsal. You'd best be on your way, or they might start warm ups without you," Erik replied.

"Madam O'Malley!" Lenore gasped, having come out of the bedroom. She was in the process of trying to figure out how to keep a pair of Erik's slacks around her waist while tugging on a pair of his boots, despite the fact that the aforementioned items were far too large for her. "I'm coming to warm ups, I'll be there on time, I swear it!"

"What the hell have you two been doing down here?" Ember inquired.

"Having mad, passionate sex like a pair of rabbits in heat," Erik lied.

"We most certainly did not!" Lenore shouted.

"You bloody damn liar!" Ember yelled at the same time.

A smirk conquered his face. "Honestly, Lenore, there's no need to lie about it. Your manager expects it of us," he said. "And you don't have to put on a show of being concerned, Madam O'Malley, I assure you we won't let anyone know that you allowed one of your girls to have sexual relations with the Opera Ghost. We wouldn't want them to think you're getting soft in your old age." Whenever Ember and Rosalyn acquired new cast members, they always told them that under no circumstances whatsoever were they to have a relationship with Erik, much less a physical one.

"Shut up, old man," Ember snapped. "You didn't do a god damn thing with her; you're too much of a gentleman."

"With all due respect, Madam, I'm not the one with gray hair," Erik teased.

"That's because you're not distinguished enough for gray hair," Ember returned haughtily. "Come along, Lenore."

"Coming," Lenore said, still tugging on a boot while holding the pants up at her waist. "GAH!" She lost her balance and fell face forward.

"I believe it would be best if you rehearsed without her," Erik informed Ember after a moment's thought. "I don't have any clothes down here to fit her, and her night garments are still damp."

"Damp? Beg your pardon?" Ember asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Lenore and I decided to frolic in the lake last night," Erik answered.

"There was no frolicking!" Lenore proclaimed from the floor.

"That's your story, ma chérie," Erik said with a chuckle. This was more of what he expected; this was Lenore.

"Bloody man!" she yelled angrily, leaping to her feet. Of course, the slacks instantly fell to her ankles, but she didn't seem to realize this.

"Lenore, I think it's time we left," Ember stated firmly.

"I couldn't agree more!" Lenore snapped, glaring daggers at Erik. She went to take a step forward, but she tripped over the trousers and fell to floor once again.

Ember tried to conceal her giggles behind her hand, but Erik let his laughter ring through the room. It was rather hilarious that the girl had let her anger trip her up this second time. That was the Lenore he remembered. His laughter was fading when he caught the boot Lenore threw at him. _It seems she's acquired better aim in her new life; I'll have to remember that._

"I'll bring her up for the performance, madam," Erik told Ember. "I hope you have a perfectly rotten day with those silly ballet girls of yours." That said, he closed the door in her face and locked it.

The ballet girls really were quite ridiculous. They always traded wild stories of Erik coming into their rooms at night for pleasure, and each one claimed that she pleased him best. Even a few of the men made such claims.

Of course, Ember had no intentions of being dismissed and began banging on the door. "Open the door this minute, or else I'll turn you over my knee. Don't think I can't do it!" she yelled.

"May I remind you that I'm not one of your children?" he called back.

"Well you're certainly acting as immature as they do," she replied. "You need a good spanking."

"You don't give Cahal a spanking for all the women he seduces, why should I be forced to suffer such punishment?" Erik reasoned.

"What?"

"Oh, didn't you know that your son's been sleeping with every woman he can get his hands on?" Erik said with a smirk.

"Well…if it's safe sex"-

"I assure you it's not. I had the misfortune of stumbling across one of his little trysts backstage the other night."

"Damnit!" she snarled. "That boy is in serious trouble."

"Are you going to spank him?" Erik inquired.

"Worse! I'm taking away the cell phone, internet, and car!" Ember declared. "Now his tarts won't be able to get a hold of him except through the home phone, and Patrick always screens our calls. Damn that boy!"

"Well, you'd best get going in that case. We wouldn't one of his conquests to manage to contact him and set up a little arrangement, now would we?"

"I'll get going as soon as Lenore comes out," Ember replied.

"Are you so determined that you'd swear to it?" Erik asked.

"Damn straight I swear to it."

Erik grabbed Lenore's arm, (she had finally managed to get back on her feet and was still trying to find a way to keep his slacks from falling off her hips), unlocked the door, and dragged her outside, still holding tightly to her. "Alright, you can leave now," Erik said to Ember.

"No," Ember said defiantly, grabbing Lenore's other arm. "Not until"-

"You swore you would leave if Lenore came out. She is out, as you requested. Now leave, or else you'll be breaking your word," Erik informed her.

"You know what I meant, Erik."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you meant," he lied. "Now shoo. You need to be getting back to your business."

"I think Rosalyn can manage just fine without me," Ember replied tartly.

"Would you like me to escort you back up?" Erik proposed.

"I would like Lenore to escort me back up," Ember said.

"Well, that's just not possible, she's not finished dressing yet."

"Fine, have it your way. But if she doesn't show up for tonight's performance, I'm coming down here with a gun."

"If the siren was giving you trouble, you should have told me. She doesn't normally drag herself on land for food, but she's quite hungry as of late."

"The gun is not for the siren, it's for your black heart," Ember snapped, letting go of Lenore's arm. "Good day, jackass." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed off into the darkness.

Erik shook his head and pulled Lenore back inside, all but slamming the door behind them. Ember could be such a nuisance sometimes… "Please abandon the idea of wearing my slacks; they're not going to fit," Erik told Lenore as he released her.

"You're too fat," Lenore mumbled.

"You're too skinny," he shot back.

"I'm a woman, I'm supposed to be skinny!"

"Just take the slacks off," he commanded. This was a ridiculous argument to be having.

"No, I'm not going around half-naked!"

"Unless you intend to take off your undergarments, you won't be half-naked without my pants," he informed her.

"I'm not traipsing around this place in an overly large shirt and my panties, thank you very much!"

He wanted to scream at her that she'd done it before, but she wouldn't remember that. Instead, he strode into his room, retrieved a bathrobe from the trunk he kept his clothes in and returned to her, thrusting the robe into her hands. "Will that make you feel more comfortable?"

"A bit," she admitted.

"As soon as you're ready, I'll be waiting in the bedroom to begin your warm ups," he informed her, leaving her alone in the drawing room to change.

* * *

" 'I'll be waiting in the bedroom'," Lenore mocked. "As if I'm going back in there again! Damn pervert…" She knew they would do warm ups in the bedroom, because that was where the organ was. She kicked off the boot that hadn't been thrown at him when he'd laughed at her, then let his pants drop to the ground. She quickly flung the robe around herself, not putting it past that man to be peeking on her. She then triple-knotted the robe belt, making sure it was quite difficult to undo. 

Stalking into the bedroom with the air of an angry cat, she stood as far from the organ as was possible. He was already seated in front of the wall containing the ivory keys, obviously ready to begin.

"Come closer," Erik commanded.

"I rather like this side of the room," Lenore said dismissively.

"You can come over here of your own accord or I can drag you. I'm not particular in the how, so long as it's done," Erik informed her, turning around on his stool to look at her.

"I suppose you'll just have to drag me over, then," Lenore replied with a smirk. If he dragged her over, the moment he released her to play, she'd go right back across the room.

"As you wish," Erik sighed. He rose and walked over, taking her by the arm and hauling her across the room. Upon passing the desk, Erik retrieved a length of rope from one of the drawers. He bound her to the stool before taking his seat. "Now, what would you like to begin with?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Untying this rope," she replied, glaring up at him from her position at his left side.

"I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with that piece."

"Jackass."

"I don't know that one either. Perhaps I should pick, hm?" He paused for a moment, as though thinking. "Let's begin with that pretty Japanese song you sang the day of your audition."

He began an intro (he must have memorized the melody that day, though how anyone could memorize a melody after hearing it only once was beyond her), and Lenore just smiled to herself. He couldn't make her sing. He repeated the introduction when she did not make a sound, probably assuming that his introduction was unfamiliar to her and she had not been prepared. A third time he repeated it, and just before he merged it into the melody where the lyrics began, he whispered to her.

"_Sing._"

Erik's voice held a note of command that could not be denied. She found her soprano voice eagerly doing his bidding, and she was powerless to stop it. Lenore tried to fight against that voice that had manipulated and bound her, but it was useless. She realized that if he had wished, he could have made her believe the grass was blue and the sky was green.

When the piece ended, she felt Erik release her from his control. "I hate you," she snarled, glaring at him.

He placed his fingers under her chin and looked down on her with tender, gentle eyes that showed pity. "If you wouldn't be stubborn, I wouldn't have resort to such measures," he informed her. "And you don't hate me; you're merely upset that you don't have the will to break free of my control."

"It's your fault for controlling me in the first place," she argued. "I hate and blame the cause, not the symptoms."

"There's no need for you to hate yourself," Erik said softly. When she opened her mouth to argue, he cut her off. "You have, through love, made me your master, and I cannot change that. It is you who must, can, and will find the strength to free yourself…if that's what you really want."

Lenore stared at him with her mouth hanging open. _How can he even insinuate that it's my fault? I didn't ask him to control me! I don't love him! My first impression was quite right; the man is completely nuts._

"Now, would you like to pick the next piece, or shall I?"

* * *

Erik sat in Box 5, watching Lenore deliver her powerful rendition of Carmen's aria, La Habanera. His eyes followed her as she moved about the stage. When the line 'Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi!' passed her lips, Erik smiled. _You delivered that line spectacularly, much better than last night. _Last night it had been a soft tone of playful warning in her voice, but tonight she delivered it as anyone in love would. Forcefully and unrelenting. _Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi…If I love you, watch out! Yes, little one. You'd best watch out; I won't stop until you can admit that you return my affections._

Tu crois le tenir, il t'evite. Tu crois l'eviter, il te tient. A beautiful line, and never a truer statement made. _You think to hold it, it eludes you. You think to elude it, it holds you. As I told you, you have made me your master. If you would stop trying to run from your feelings, I could have no hold over you.

* * *

_

Lenore hurried to her dressing room; if she changed quickly enough, she could get out of there before Erik managed to snatch her away. She changed in two minutes flat; that had to be a record of some kind. Hiding her costume in the closet so that Erik wouldn't know she'd been and gone, Lenore slipped out the door, looking around cautiously before shoving her way through the crowd towards an exit.

She jumped a mile and almost screamed when someone took her hand. "I was hoping I'd find you here," Cahal's voice said. She turned, taking in his red hair, emerald green eyes, the slightly large nose, and the crooked teeth his grin revealed. "You want to go back to Les Grandes Marches, or would you like to try a different place tonight?"

_That's right_. _I promised to go out with him tonight. _"Les Grandes Marches will be fine," she replied. "Let's go, I'm starving."

They walked to the restaurant, as his car had been confiscated, but that was fine with her. It was a bit of a walk, but the starlit sky was nice to look at, and, being June, it wasn't too cold for such a trek. When they finally arrived at the restaurant, Lenore was debating telling Cahal all about Erik and how he wanted to hold her prisoner beneath the Opera House.

Cahal spoke with the waiter in French for a moment, seemingly surprised by something the man had told him. Then they were escorted to a table for four. And who should be seated at that table but her father.

"I thought you might be dining here," he said pleasantly as Cahal seated her.

"Yes, well…" Lenore trailed off, not exactly sure how to deal with this. She could cause a horrible commotion by yelling at him that he was completely off his rocker to leave her with Erik, or she could try to get rid of him by telling him she was on a date.

"I've got splendid news, kitten," he informed her.

_Have you come to your senses? Realized that you need to see a psychiatrist and stop leaving your daughter with manipulative maniacs? _It didn't even occur to her to berate him for calling her 'kitten' in front of Cahal. "Oh, how nice," she said politely. She wasn't sure she wanted Cahal to know anything was going on. "What news is that?"

"You've been betrothed, darling," Hiroshi explained.

Lenore just stared at him for a moment. _Maybe I'm hearing things…maybe I'm the one going mad. _"Beg your pardon?" Granted, they had discussed an arranged marriage many times when she was growing up, but she'd never expected it this soon. Especially not when her stage career was just beginning.

"You've been betrothed," he repeated.

"I've been…betrothed? As in engaged, promised, affianced, spoken for?"

"Now you're catching on, kitten." Hiroshi smiled at Cahal. "Cahal, my boy, I'm afraid I won't be requiring your services any more. For not having given you prior notice, I offer you two hundred thousand Euros. I trust you won't say a word."

"Not a word," Cahal droned, his eyes looking strangely blank as he accepted the large sum given to him in cash.

"Have a nice life, and make sure you don't cross muffin. I'm sure you know how easily she can become annoyed," Hiroshi said in dismissal. Cahal rose and left the table, heading for the door.

"Father! What the hell is going on?" Lenore hissed. "What do you mean by his services? Why did you give him all that money? And why did you tell him to leave, I was on a date with him!"

"Well, it's a rather strange story, so I'll just avoid the question of what's going on. What I mean by his services…well, to be honest with you…I was using him for sexual pleasure. I gave him that money so he wouldn't speak of it, of course. Can't have my reputation tarnished. And I told him to leave because I didn't think it'd be proper to have that boy here when your fiancée returns," Hiroshi explained.

"Since we're alone, I think it's time I found out a few things. Since when has your name been Hiroshi?" she inquired sourly.

"Oh, since I was born, kitten. But most people know me as Jack, so that's the name I chose to go by. Don't be upset over it."

"Don't be upset? My father's only lied to me about his name all my life, but don't be upset?" Lenore complained. He had told her when she had asked that her mother was American and she resembled her mother so very much, having gained very little from his Asian heritage except for that superior intelligence. "I mean, is there anything else you lied to me about that I might need or like to know?"

"Well, now that you mention it…I'm not your biological father. Your father was a drunken fraternity boy, and he died ten years ago from drinking too much alcohol. Completely destroyed his liver. That's why I never let you drink, darling, I don't want you to ruin yourself," Hiroshi explained.

Lenore didn't know what to say for a moment. "You must have loved Mother terribly, then. To raise me as your own, when I"-

"I did not raise you because of love. I raised you to make things up to a friend," he cut her off.

"Oh, well, then you must have been very good friends with Mother," Lenore replied.

"Kitten, don't make this any more difficult than it has to be," Hiroshi pleaded.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's just…there's so much I didn't know."

"There's a great deal that you still don't know," he informed her.

"Then tell me. Before whomever it is you expect me to marry gets here."

"Now is not the time, nor the place."

"I think it's the perfect time, even if the place isn't quite appropriate," Lenore argued.

"Well, in that, you'd be wrong; your fiancée has just returned," Hiroshi countered.

Lenore decided not to turn and gawk; there was too much chance she might mistake someone heading in their general direction to be her fiancée. That would most certainly be embarrassing. "I hope you haven't chosen some fifty year old man with gray hair," she muttered, smoothing non-existent wrinkles out of her red evening dress. _I don't know why I worried about making sure I wore an evening dress, I was planning on getting away before Erik could take me back; did my attire really matter? But I was always told to dress appropriately for the time of day…good thing I did dress this way, or they might not have let me into the restaurant. Though that might not have been a bad thing…_

"Good evening, mademoiselle," she heard a familiar voice beside her.

"You didn't," she hissed at her father without looking up. Her hand was taken and a pair of lips gently brushed it. She turned to look at Erik and just about fainted. He wore a hunter green vest and cravat over a white silk dress shirt, a black dinner jacket, black slacks, white gloves, and a skin-colored mask that you wouldn't see unless you knew to look for it. Feeling a rush of heat, Lenore took her water glass and tried to sip the water properly rather than gulp it all down in an effort to cool herself off. Erik seated himself next to her, looking every inch as though he belonged in a fancy restaurant with normal people. _You wouldn't know he's insane by looking at him now._ "Excuse me, gentlemen…I have to…go powder my nose," Lenore attempted to excuse herself as she rose.

"You don't have a purse, and therefore, no cosmetics, kitten," Hiroshi pointed out.

"I'll figure out something," Lenore assured him, quickly heading for the restroom. Her only intention was to get a moment to breathe and splash some cool water on her face. _Dear God, am I lusting after that madman?_

Upon reaching the bathroom, Lenore positioned herself at the line of sinks with the beautifully framed mirror stretching the length of the counter. She took a few deep breaths before bathing her face with cool water. She closed her eyes for a moment, and the vision of Erik came rushing back, bringing that sinful heat with it.

"Darling, are you alright?" a young woman about her own age asked her, coming in and seeing Lenore's flushed complexion.

"Oh, yes, I'm perfectly fine. It's just a bit warm out there this evening," Lenore replied.

The woman smiled knowingly. "Yes, the right man can always make the evening seem a bit warmer than it actually is," she said. "It helps if you bring along a small fan. Do you have one with you?"

"No, I'm afraid not. It seems I left my purse back in my room by mistake."

"Have one of mine; I always carry extras," the woman responded, digging through her small black clutch and handing Lenore a black silk Japanese fan. Spreading it out, Lenore saw the white tree embroidered upon it for a brief second before she began fanning herself madly.

"This helps greatly, thank you so much," Lenore said appreciatively.

"You're quite welcome."

"Well, I hope you have a good evening, ma'am," Lenore proclaimed as she prepared to return the fan.

"Keep it, darling, you'll probably need it again before the night is out, and I can't keep coming to the restroom to check for you," the woman chuckled.

"You're very kind, ma'am," Lenore replied, smiling at the woman before heading back out to the two men.

* * *

"I think it's going rather well," Hiroshi remarked as soon as Lenore left. 

"I don't think we should be pushing her like this," Erik replied. "If you knew her at all, you'd know that what you're doing is like trying to get a stubborn mule who's determined not to move to go in the direction you wish; in the end, the mule will be firmly resolved to go in any other direction but the one you want."

"Don't compare my daughter to a mule," Hiroshi said. "That's an insult to the mule. That girl is the most stubborn thing I've ever met."

"You don't know the half of it," Erik muttered. "I still feel that having us betrothed was a bit extreme." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small ring box. He'd gone for the ring while Hiroshi waited here for her to arrive. Erik also had a belated birthday gift for her, but that could wait until after the ring.

"Oh, nonsense. It's not like I haven't prepared her for it. We had a great number of extensive talks on the importance of arranged marriages, and she knew that she would find herself in this situation one day. She always claimed she understood and would marry whoever I asked her to. Besides, I think she'll find it rather difficult to turn you down. Did you see how she reacted?"

"Yes, she left as quickly as possible to get away from me," Erik said bitterly.

"You're so blind, Erik. That girl was positively drowning in lust," Hiroshi informed him. "She always did have a weakness for men in formal dress. And you do like quite handsome in hunter green."

"Sometimes you worry me, Hiroshi," Erik replied. The man was far too knowledgeable concerning things such as women's taste in fashion.

"I wish Lenore would listen to me nowadays when I tell her not to wear certain colors. That red dress she has on, for example. The color really doesn't flatter her at all. Crimson would have been a better choice," Hiroshi sighed. "Oh well. At least the majority of her wardrobe has my seal of approval. Every now and then she goes out and gets herself some new dress without me. I really think she should stop that, though, she picks some of the strangest cuts or fabrics. Like that leopard print dress…the girl's going to look absolutely wretched in it, but she liked it, so she bought it…"

Lenore returned at that moment. "And so it is that I return to the table of madness," she mumbled as she plopped down on her chair, tossing her waist length dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. She took one look at Erik and suddenly whipped open the Japanese silk fan in her hand, fanning herself rapidly while taking a sip from her water glass.

"Now Lenore, you're going to be polite this evening. You'll be every inch the perfect lady; I've got a guest joining us and I won't have you making a bad impression," Hiroshi commanded.

"Oh, yes, the perfect lady. I suppose the best way to manage that would be to keep my mouth shut the entire time," Lenore replied.

"Don't sass me. I won't stand for that sort of behavior."

Lenore gave a casual shrug and put on an air of indifference.

Just as Erik was about to hand her the ring, a woman came to their table. "Good evening, Jack," the woman said pleasantly. Then she noticed Lenore. "Oh, well, nice to see you again, darling. I'm glad to see the fan I gave you is of some use."

"Yes, I can't thank you enough," Lenore responded, smiling at the woman.

"Lenore, Erik, I'd like you to meet Brielle Vasser," Hiroshi introduced the woman. "I met her just last night, and thought that it would be nice to have her join us for dinner."

"I hope the evening finds you well, mademoiselle Vasser," Erik replied dutifully. Victoire Vasser's child without a doubt, the woman's raven hair was pinned up neatly and her emerald green eyes sparkled as she took in the sights of the restaurant. Erik was sure she'd never dined this well before.

"Thank you, monsieur," Brielle said with a smile before turning back to Hiroshi.

"Father, would you mind accompanying me to the lounge? There's something I wish to discuss with you," Lenore said a tad sharply. No doubt she was upset that Hiroshi was seeing a woman the same age as herself.

"I'm sure whatever it is can wait, kitten," Hiroshi dismissed her request.

Erik could see an explosion of Lenore's temper on the horizon. "I hope you like the ring I picked out, ma chérie," Erik said quickly, handing her the ring box. Hopefully, his action could spare the group one of her rants.

Lenore plastered a smile on her face, laying her fan down as she accepted the little box. Opening it up, she gasped. "It's gorgeous," she breathed. It was platinum, with two sapphires on either side of an oval shaped diamond. The inside was engraved with the phrase 'Past, present, and future.' "This is…it must have cost a fortune."

"You have no idea," Erik muttered.

"How much did you spend?" Lenore inquired.

"That's not a polite question to be asking, Lenore," Hiroshi reprimanded.

"Well, if I'm going to marry this man, I need to know exactly how wealthy he is. And what better way to find out then by asking how much he was willing to spend on an engagement ring?" Lenore countered.

"It's fine, Jack, I don't mind," Erik assured his friend. "I suppose you're more familiar with American currency. The cost was…" he paused, doing the necessary conversion, "…almost forty three thousand, five hundred dollars."

Lenore was quite obviously struck speechless. Brielle's eyes were as wide as they could go, staring disbelievingly at the ring lying on its velvet bed in the box in Lenore's hand.

"I'd certainly say he's wealthy enough, wouldn't you?" Hiroshi commented after a moment. Lenore merely nodded her head, still in shock.

Erik leaned over, took the ring out of the box, and slid it onto the appropriate finger. Lenore stared at it a moment before passing out. Brielle caught her before she fell out of her chair and snatched the black fan off the table, fanning Lenore wildly. Of course, this drew some attention, but when everyone saw Erik snap the little ring box closed, they all smiled knowingly and returned to whatever they'd been doing.

* * *

Lenore opened her eyes slowly, staring at the ceiling of the restaurant in bewilderment for a brief moment as everything came back to her. She pulled herself upright in her chair, no longer needing Brielle to support her. 

The men ordered for the two women, Brielle bubbling with thanks to Jack for being so thoughtful and Lenore merely fanning herself, as another wave of hot desire had flooded her when she looked at Erik to thank him. _Damn, why does he have to look so good? Why can't I stop thinking about the way he kisses me? Pull yourself together, he's just a man. He's not worthy of such reactions, now stop it this minute!_ Of course, it didn't matter how severely her mind berated her, for her body seemed to find Erik more than deserving of the reactions he could exact from her. Her dream from the night before sprang into mind and her cheeks turned tomato red. _Don't think those things, they're entirely indecent!_

"I know it's a month late, but I acquired a birthday gift for you, my dear," Erik suddenly said, startling her out of her naughty thoughts. He pulled a necklace case out of his jacket.

"Oh, no, after the cost of this ring, I don't think I could accept"- She stopped mid sentence when he opened the case and displayed its contents to her.

"Tiffany?" Brielle exclaimed, immediately recognizing the origin of the necklace and matching earrings.

"Yes, the Rose double drop pendant and corresponding earrings," Erik explained. "I'm afraid I couldn't find a bracelet to go with it. And before you ask, this set only cost me twenty seven thousand."

"I absolutely cannot accept this," Lenore said firmly.

"Of course you can, kitten," Hiroshi contradicted. "You'll have to forgive her Erik; she's not used to such pampering. I doubt I've ever bought her any piece of jewelry worth more than two thousand."

Lenore looked at the necklace and earrings. _Why are you spending all this money on me? You'll exhaust your financial resources buying me baubles like this. How can you possibly spend all this money on me and then tell me the price so casually as if it cost only a few hundred dollars? Just how wealthy are you, Erik?_

"I assure you, the price was no object," Erik said with a knowing smile, as if he'd read her thoughts. _He probably did._ "I'm afraid I have more money than I know what to do with." Lenore took out the earrings she had in currently and replaced them with the ones he'd gotten her, then proceeded to fasten the necklace in place. "I knew it would flatter you," Erik said with an irresistibly sexy smile.

The fan was once more employed in an effort to cool herself as she thanked him for his gracious compliment. _"It suits you." A cool finger lifted her chin, and a quick kiss brushed her lips._ She didn't understand what was wrong with her. Remembered conversations and actions that hadn't happened at all…something was wrong with her. Maybe she should see a psychiatrist.

* * *

Hiroshi only gave Brielle a very small fraction of his attention. Not that the girl realized there was anything else on his mind. He was quite good at making women think they were the only thing on his mind, even if they didn't have the tiniest smidgeon of his interest. 

He knew Erik was terribly concerned that they were pushing things, and far too quickly. _You're basing that assumption on Lenore Serenity Parker, my friend. But this is Lenore Aithne Wolfe, and she's a bit different. True, if you push her, she'll fight you. But, if you give her a good hard shove, she'll go the way you want…complaining all the way, but at least it's the way you want. Besides, I don't want to have to wait a long time to see the two of you happy._

Noting that the only conversation occurring at the table was the one he maintained with Brielle, Hiroshi decided it might be best to leave them alone. The meal was practically over anyway; the rest of this evening would be spent in socializing. _And the socializing I intend to do with Brielle really isn't suited for the public._

"Brielle, perhaps we should head back to my suite," Hiroshi proposed, standing and offering the girl a hand. A very beautiful specimen of the mortal race. Such a shame she would be dead tomorrow morning.

"Father, I don't think it's appropriate for Brielle to visit with you in your suite," Lenore suddenly commented.

"I must agree," Erik said casually. "Mademoiselle Vasser, I believe that if you return to Monsieur Wolfe's suite, the morning may find you in a cold bed."

Hiroshi shot a glare at Erik; he was all but telling the girl that if she went with Hiroshi, she'd be dead by morning. _Let me have my fun with mortal women, Erik, _Hiroshi hissed to the man with his mind.

_If your fun was not so grotesque, I would not detest it,_ Erik replied, returning Hiroshi's glare. _She's a defenseless woman. For all I care, you can rape her till Satan shakes God's hand with a smile. But do not expect me to approve of you murdering women._

"Come along, darling, don't pay any attention to them," Hiroshi instructed, giving the girl a lustful grin and slipping into her mind to make certain she accompanied him. _Concern yourself with Lenore, Erik. She looks like she could use a good fuck._

Erik looked about ready to leap up and attack Hiroshi for saying (more appropriately thinking) such things about Lenore. Hiroshi quickly headed for the exit, stopping long enough to more than pay for the meal the group had had.

"It's a nice night," Brielle commented as they walked the streets of Paris. "But a bit cool. I'll feel much better once we warm up in your suite."

"Soon, darling, soon," Hiroshi said, taking the long way back to the hotel. He wanted to appreciate her beauty in the moonlight. After he had satiated his physical desires with her body, she would find out just how cold a night could be. It was so much fun to watch mortals die.

* * *

"Hiroshi, you're not allowed to sit next to me for a while," the authoress said.

"Why not, cupcake?" Hiroshi asked innocently.

"You're kind of creepy with the liking watching mortals die thing," the authoress replied honestly. "Anyways, reviews would be nice people. I do so love reviews."

Lenore and Erik were far too busy lusting after each other to add any comments to the authoress' review reminder.

"Oh, for the love of God, just kiss already," the authoress mumbled under her breath. Hiroshi pressed his lips to the authoress' and she hurriedly backed away. "GAH! I didn't mean you, I meant those two! …I've been kissed by the Jack the Ripper…how disturbing is that?"


	31. Chapter 31

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in present day, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore watched him go. "Damn him!" she hissed. "She's far too young!"

"I agree with you on that," Erik practically snarled, his eyes following Hiroshi's retreating figure. Lenore found his eyes emanated such cold hatred that she found herself shivering with fear.

"Um…when are we getting married?" Lenore asked, hoping to take his mind off things.

"The Madeleine is booked solid for six months," Erik said dismissively. "The earliest date we could manage would be in mid December." There was a momentary pause as he finally took his eyes off of the door Hiroshi had exited through and turned to look at her. "Of course, the openings in mid December are a very narrow window of times, due to the holidays at the end of the month. Some time in January is my current expectation."

Lenore looked down at the ring on her finger. _January…that's not that far away really. _She got to her feet, ready to leave. She could care less if Erik followed or not. She strode out of the restaurant as fast as was politely possible.

As soon as she was outside the restaurant, she ran for the street, hailing the first cab she saw. She flung herself into it and instructed the driver to just drive at the moment, so long as they left the restaurant. She saw Erik pursue her into the street, but he couldn't get into the cab before the driver took off down the street.

The driver inquired if she had any particular destination in mind. "The Eiffel Tower," Lenore answered absently. It was on the other side of Paris, which would provide her ample time to think.

_I hate this. Everything I believed throughout my childhood has been a lie, I've been shoved into a marriage with a man who's lied to me for the past month, a man that I hardly know yet seem to want badly. And these memories…How can I remember something that's never happened? That I've never even dreamed? I want to go back to a month ago. When everything was simple. When Father was still my father, and I was planning to write a book on theology while taking a vacation in Italy. It was my perfect dream…_

_"…every dream must end."_

God, his voice even haunted the simplest thoughts! _There's got to be something in my life he can't touch…theology. That's it. _She spent the rest of the ride thinking over her book. She could run away, and write her book. Publish it under a different name maybe. Make some money for herself. _And then what? Spend the rest of your life hiding? What for?_

"Mademoiselle, we've arrived," the driver said impatiently. He'd probably told her a few times already.

"Thank you," she murmured, absently sliding out of the cab and heading towards the Eiffel Tower.

The elevator was mostly empty during the ascension. Lenore didn't even notice the breathtaking beauty of the night lights of Paris. She was so busy trying to figure out what to do with what Hiroshi had told her about her past, and being engaged to Erik.

Lenore located a small section of the railing at the top that wasn't occupied by giggling tourist couples making out. Peering out over France, she bit back the urge to just scream her lungs out until she felt better. _I want to go home. I want this life to be the way it was supposed to. I hate not being like any other girl. _She looked at the couple to her right. That girl would be allowed to marry whoever she wanted, no matter how rich or poor he was. She would live a normal life, in a normal house. _Why can't I have that? Why do I have to be married to an eccentric wealthy bastard living in a basement?_

…_Why doesn't the idea of this marriage bother me half as much as it should?_

"You forgot to pay for your cab," Erik's voice whispered in her ear. He moved to stand beside her at the railing.

"Oh," she muttered, just now thinking of it. She'd been so lost in thought, she hadn't even realized. "How did you find me?"

"I took the taxi that was behind yours. Next time you wish to see the sights, save me a few Euros by letting me accompany you instead of taking my own cab," Erik replied.

"Not like you need to worry about money," Lenore retorted.

"I would have liked to ride with you though," he said softly, his eyes looking out over Paris. There was sadness in his voice, as if she had hurt him by running off on her own. As if he truly did want to be with her.

"I wouldn't have liked it," she responded. She didn't want to hurt him, but at the same time, she somehow did want to make him upset. Maybe if he was upset with her, the marriage would be called off.

"Must you be so cruel?" he inquired. "I look for your love, and all I find is bitterness and distrust."

_Wait…those are…he's crying. I made him cry. Why do I feel so bad about that? Isn't that what I wanted? You should apologize, Lenore._ "I…" she paused and sighed. God, was it so hard to say she was sorry? Maybe she should start with something else. "I didn't expect this, you know. This wasn't the way I planned my life. I was going to write a book, and spend a few years just vacationing around the globe," she managed to say. "Then I was going to get married and become a professor of theology. I never thought of being a diva. And when that happened, I thought of spending a few years here before trying my hand at Hollywood. If I could build a reputation for myself here, with Father…Hiroshi's connections, I figured I could have a career in entertainment. This just wasn't what I was expecting."

"That is no excuse for your cruelty," Erik said, the tears gone now and a hard edge in his voice. "You needn't cause others pain just because you're hurting."

Lenore didn't bother to respond to that. She was sick of the twist her life had taken. She could always throw herself over the railing. That would end it all quickly enough. She wouldn't have to worry about hiding for the rest of her life or going through with this marriage and being miserable.

Erik's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close so that she was in front of him and he shielded her back from the cool night breeze. "Stop running, my little one," he whispered into her hair.

"But if I stop running…everything will catch up with me," she whispered.

"Eventually, you're going to trip and fall. And then it will all catch up with you anyway," Erik pointed out. "Do you really want to face it all at a time when you can't even stand?"

They were silent for a few minutes while Lenore thought about things. "Why did he lie to me?" she finally said. "He said he raised me to make things up to a friend. But why did he tell me all these years that he was my father? Why didn't he tell me the truth before now? I…I hate him." She didn't want to say that she also didn't want to marry Erik, because, for some strange reason, she didn't want to hurt him like that. And it wasn't entirely true…

She leaned back against his chest and sighed. _This feels perfect. Like it was meant to be. Why does he make me feel this? He's supposed to make me afraid, because he's insane and terrifyingly strong, and can manipulate me with his voice, and…Why do I want to marry him? Why aren't I angry at him for letting Hiroshi betroth us?_ She raised her left hand and looked at the ring on her finger.

"Erik, why do you want to marry me?"

"Because I love you," he whispered softly.

"How do you know? You didn't meet me till a month ago. What if it's just some silly little infatuation?"

"There's no way for me to explain it. Just trust me."

She ached to trust him, wanted it with her whole being. And yet, a tiny little part of her mind warned her against it. Trust was nothing more than a trap; love, a cage. Trusting him now would cripple her, and he would slowly bring her to love him, successfully caging her in his heart.

"Erik…" _I've got to be insane…_ "…are you really the Phantom of the Opera?"

* * *

Erik wasn't sure how he should answer that. Would the truth frighten her? Or would it help her to trust him? _She'll hate you if you lie to her, Erik. _He noticed the couples close by had started to listen to their conversation.

Putting his lips right down next to her ear, Erik moved his lips a bit, just enough to make people think he had already replied and go back to their canoodling. It worked. _Lenore,_ Erik whispered softly into her mind. _You really should be more careful with your words in public._

"I don't care," she responded, her voice drawing attention once again.

_I am, _Erik answered her earlier question. _It's not impossible, I assure you. But that's a story for a more private place._

Lenore suddenly broke out of his embrace and shoved him away, running to the elevator. _What is with her obsession with running away from me tonight? _Following her, he attempted to catch the lift, but the doors closed just as he got there. He couldn't be bothered to wait for the elevator to take her down and then come back up for him, so he began hurrying down the stairs.

* * *

Snatches of music ran through her mind. _"My power over you grows stronger yet." "Only then can you belong to me. Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in…" "Your chains are still mine, you will sing for me!" "…the trap is set and waits for its prey." "In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me." _Those songs, the only view into the Phantom's character she had (or so she thought), were replaced by more of those strange memories.

_"Ma chouchoute means 'my pet'." "…you are mine. You belong to me!" "It would be all too easy to own you if I truly wished it, child." "So you think yourself a slave, Lenore? Awfully daring of a slave to confront her master, isn't it? Perhaps it would be best if this little slave took a moment to think about how kind and merciful her master is." "I called you my doll because that is what you are. My fragile, porcelain doll."_

If she married Erik, she would be a possession. Perhaps a pet, a canary to sing for him when he wished to hear her beautiful voice that he had perfected. _No, I can't. I won't be a man's pet or treasure! I'll live on the streets and starve to death first!_ When the doors of the elevator opened, she rushed out and headed for the Pont d'Iéna to return to the north side of the Seine. _The Bois, I'll head for the Bois. _To hell with the fact that it was a den of prostitution at night. Erik would never think to look for a proper lady like her in the Bois.

Halfway across the Pont d'Iéna, Lenore heard someone coming up behind her. Panting for breath and already exhausted, she didn't dare turn around to see whether or not it was Erik. Pushing herself to keep running, her breath coming in ragged shallow gasps, Lenore lurched forward for a few more feet before suddenly losing her balance and pitching to the cold stone surface of the bridge. She knew from the way she'd fallen that the heel had broken off her shoe.

She kicked her heels off as quickly as she could and pushed herself back to her feet, taking off again. She couldn't let him catch her, be it Erik or some random pickpocket/rapist/murderer. _If he catches me, I'll be trapped forever. I can't be trapped, I can't. I want to be free to come and go as I please, not to be a prisoner in Erik's home! _Lenore cursed herself for not bringing a purse; if she had one, she could turn and bludgeon her pursuer until he was unconscious, then make her escape at a more leisurely pace.

* * *

Hiroshi carried the body of Brielle Vasser down to the main lobby, out the door, into a cab to the Bois, and then dumped her in an isolated section where she would be found in the morning, tampering with the minds of any who saw him with her corpse so that they would never remember the sight of it. All the while, he hummed a very old Japanese song that was dedicated to the god of death.

"Get away from me," he heard Lenore's voice yell hoarsely. Turning around, he saw her about twenty feet away, running past him with Erik close on her heels.

He stepped into her path, and she ran into him before she could stop herself. Bouncing back off of him with a violent force, she fell to the ground, gasping for air. "Really, kitten, if you're a woman in the Bois at this time of night, no man would take you seriously if you told him to leave you alone," Hiroshi commented.

"Not you," she groaned, trying to scramble around him and get back on her feet.

Knowing he couldn't put a foot on the fabric and risk ripping the dress (she'd spent far too much of his money for the garment), he placed his boot firmly on her leg, successfully pinning her to the ground, albeit somewhat painfully as well. But it seemed Lenore had other plans in mind, for she jabbed a rather sharp stick into his calf muscle, causing him to release her while cursing severely.

"Maybe I should have told you she was armed," Erik quipped moments later as he ran past Hiroshi after Lenore. Hiroshi caught sight of a few scratches on Erik's face. _I never knew kitten was so aggressive. What a perfect sex toy she would've been for me…_

Joining in the pursuit, Hiroshi proposed that Erik simply plunge into her mind. If the pain didn't stop her, Erik's control of her body certainly would. Erik refused, saying he didn't wish to cause her that much pain when she would eventually tire out and he could catch her then. "I rather do miss those scarred legs right now," Erik muttered darkly. "The poor condition of her legs would have stopped her long before reaching the Bois."

Hiroshi, on the other hand, wasn't even remotely interested in seeing how long this could last. So he plunged into her mind. She crumpled to the ground in front of them, screaming her pain. Not having chased her for any great length of time and therefore less exhausted then Erik, Hiroshi reached her first, and glared down at the girl he called his daughter.

"You agreed to marry whoever I chose for you," he reminded her sharply. "To run away from him is to show disrespect to me. I'll not stand for it, do you hear me?"

Erik arrived at that moment and delivered a firm punch to Hiroshi's jaw before taking his precious Lenore into his arms and attempting to soothe her with soft words and gentle kisses on her forehead.

"Damn you Erik, can't you be appreciative for what I've done for you just once? I give you immortality and you curse at me for hours. I repair a good portion of your face and you beat me for not making it perfect. I raise and return your beloved little pet to you and you tell me to take her from your sight. I stop her when she tries to run and you hit me! Didn't you ever learn manners?" Hiroshi spat.

"I'm afraid the manners I learned differ greatly from yours," Erik snarled back. "It's entirely improper to attack, rape, and murder defenseless women."

"You can't rape the willing."

"When you alter their thoughts to make them willing, I call that rape."

Hiroshi was trying to come up with some biting retort, but his mind was failing him. "Take her home," he finally said, looking at the girl crying in Erik's arms. "And don't let her get away again. I won't help you with this little mortal anymore." Maybe that was harsh, but Hiroshi was tired of doing everything he could to make Erik happy only to have Erik yell at him and beat him up. _What a spectacular friend I have,_ Hiroshi thought dryly.

* * *

Erik laid her gently in his bed, not sure what to do. She was still crying from the pain of having someone rip into her mind as Hiroshi had, but he didn't want to give her morphine. She hadn't been exposed to that drug in this life and he would never forgive himself if he made her a morphine addict.

Erik ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what else he could do to make her comfortable. _Take off the jewelry…get her out of that dress. _His mind filled with thoughts that were inappropriate at the current moment. Hell, the thoughts were inappropriate unless you were married to the woman, but that certainly hadn't stopped him from having such thoughts before.

He carefully removed the earrings, then unfastened the clasp of the necklace and laid the trinkets on a side table. Gently lifting her up enough to reach the zipper, Erik began to open the back of her dress.

"No," she whimpered through her tears, the first coherent word she'd said since Hiroshi had done this to her.

"Trust me, Lenore," Erik pleaded. "I have no intentions of hurting you. Trust me. Now, may I remove your dress or not?"

She was silent a minute, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You may," she finally whispered, sniffling to keep her nose from dripping.

Erik remembered the first time he caught a cold and his nose ran. What an experience that had been! He had invested a great deal of money in handkerchiefs after that little episode. But he'd also taken great care in keeping himself from ever catching cold again, so he'd used very few of them. _I was forty years old before I had to deal with a dripping nose…God, that was ages ago. A good one hundred and forty years or so ago._

The dress was discarded on the floor. Erik stared at the breasts filling the lacy red brassiere, larger than in her previous life. The brassiere didn't look comfortable to him, but he didn't know much about that sort of thing. _If I ask to take off her brassiere, she'll find a way to get over her pain long enough to yell and smack at me, telling me how perverted I am when my only intention is to make her more comfortable._

Erik took her in his arms, deciding the best course of action would be to soother her with song. But which one? He was very familiar with the music from Lenore's laptop; he'd kept it down there, only taking it up to have Ember recharge it when necessary so that he could continue to listen to the music Lenore had adored. _Yes, that one will do quite nicely tonight…_

Spend all your time waiting  
For that second chance,  
For a break that would make it okay.  
There's always some reason  
To feel not good enough,  
And it's hard at the end of the day.  
I need some distraction,  
Oh beautiful release,  
Memories seep from my veins.  
Let me be empty,  
And weightless, and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight.

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here.  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here.

So tired of the straight line  
And everywhere you turn,  
There's vultures and thieves at your back.  
The storm keeps on twisting,  
keeps on building the lies,  
That you make up for all that you lack.  
It don't make no difference  
Escaping one last time.  
It's easier to believe in this sweet madness, oh  
This glorious sadness that brings me to my knees.

In the arms of an angel  
Fly away from here.  
From this dark cold hotel room  
And the endlessness that you fear.  
You are pulled from the wreckage  
Of your silent reverie.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here.  
You're in the arms of the angel  
May you find some comfort here.

It didn't put her to sleep; her mind hurt too much for her to actually rest. But it relaxed her, and her tears finally stopped.

"What did he do that hurt so much?" Lenore inquired drowsily.

"The mind is very fragile, and if you enter it, you must enter it slowly so as not to harm your target. Hiroshi ripped through the layers of the mind, going for the center so as to stop you," Erik said. "It's somewhat difficult to explain, but the mind has layers that are designed to protect it from those of us who have the ability to read minds. Those layers are easy enough to get through, but it must be done slowly and carefully to avoid pain for whomever it is you wish to read. The time it takes gives the prey enough time to erect their own barrier, if they know what's happening to them. But if you wish to stop someone, or keep them subdued for a few minutes, forcing into their minds quickly is more efficient. Each approach has positives and negatives; which one the mind reader will use depends on the situation and his personality."

"Oh," she mumbled, probably having difficulties processing the information due to the pain her mind was in and her drowsiness.

Lenore's left hand somehow found its way onto the porcelain mask. Tensing, Erik quickly snatched her hand away from his face. _She won't remember…she doesn't know yet, I can't let her see until I can be sure she won't be afraid._

"You were not meant to see Erik's face tonight, chérie," Erik whispered when her eyes betrayed her disappointment in having been thwarted at unmasking him.

"But I want to," she whined like a small child.

Erik sighed, shaking his head. Damn women and their curiosity. "Would you like me to tell you a story?" he proposed, hoping to get her mind off of the mask.

For a moment he was certain she was going to tell him she didn't want a story, she wanted to see his face, damnit! But then the determined fire left her eyes. "Okay," she conceded, letting her eyes close.

So Erik told her a story he had told a young woman one hundred and forty years ago, about a white rose and a nightingale that fell in love against the will of Allah. How the nightingale came to the rose every night, begging for her divine love. How the rose trembled at the sound of his voice, but refused to open her petals to him. And then, how the rose managed to overcome her fear, and that the result was the birth of the red rose that Allah had never intended for the world to know.

"Roses are pretty," Lenore commented, on the verge of sleep. "Do you like roses, Erik?"

"Very much," he replied softly, smiling at the delicate one in his arms.

"Would you buy me roses?" she inquired through a yawn.

"As many as you like."

"Fifty. Purple, please," she murmured.

_Purple? Why purple?

* * *

_

Lenore opened her eyes, thankful her head wasn't hurting anymore. Erik was not next to her in the bed, so Lenore turned her head, fully expecting him to be sitting next to it, anxiously watching her to make sure she was alright. What she found was a vase of purple roses on the table by the bed.

_Oh shit, I thought I was dreaming when I asked that. _She didn't bother counting them; he wouldn't get her any less than what she'd asked for, nor would he get her more.She was also pleased to see that these roses were properly purple, not burgundy, lilac, or lavender. She didn't want burgundy, since that color meant unconscious beauty. Though the meaning wasn't literal, Lenore knew she'd feel as if it were. Lilac symbolized the first emotions of love, and that somehow didn't seem appropriate. And while lavender was accepted as representing love at first sight and enchantment, it also indicated a need for discretion, which was certainly not an implication she wanted from Erik.

_What if he knows what purple roses of this color signify? Not to mention what the amount signifies. Lord in Heaven, if he knows…_

She found a small card lying next to the vase and picked it up.

Lenore,

I hope I purchased the correct color. The florist informed me that this shade of purple means enchantment, opulence, majesty, and glory. The color also means "I will always love you." Which I found quite interesting, seeing as how fifty roses symbolize unconditional love. If you take a moment to look at the pillow next to you, you will find another rose that I hope is also to your liking. When you are ready, please join me in the drawing room.

Erik.

She looked at the pillow next to her (she hadn't bothered to before, knowing Erik wasn't in bed with her), and found a blue rosebud with a black ribbon tied around the stem. _Blue…blue indicates fantasies, hoping for a miracle, new opportunities, or possibilities. And the fact that it's not in bloom yet is meant to say "You are young and beautiful."_

Lenore shook her head. _Why did I have to say that aloud? Why couldn't I have been dreaming? _She wasn't sure how she felt now, getting these roses with very specific meanings from Erik. The fact that she had asked for the purple ones made it worse. To outright tell him what she wanted him to feel for her…

Lenore had her hand on the door handle when she realized all she was wearing were her undergarments. _I can't go out there like this! _She went to the trunk Erik kept his clothes in, as her dress from last night was nowhere to be seen, and Erik's shirt was better than nothing. She was stunned to find a portion of her wardrobe in the trunk, with a little note on top.

Kitten,

I brought your wardrobe down. Well, most of it. The dresses I didn't approve of weren't part of my selection. I also neglected to bring down any slacks or short skirts. I know Erik won't have made you any clothes yet, so until he's found the time to make you some suitable attire, these clothes will have to do.

Father

_Father my ass! _Crumpling the note up and tossing it on the floor, Lenore dressed in one of her tailored suits, which consisted of a long sleeved black dress shirt, and a crimson vest with a matching knee-length skirt. Then she pulled on the thigh high black stockings and located a pair of black flats. She pinned her hair up in a proper bun and straightened her vest, finally ready to go out.

* * *

She looked every inch the perfect lady. Her hair was pulled up off her neck in a neat, perfect bun. Her crimson vest was perfectly straight over a black dress shirt that lacked any creases. The seams of her skirt were lined up at the appropriate place, her stockings were perfectly arranged. She was, in essence, perfect. Erik found it positively sickening.

He remembered when her hair used to be defiant, never in place. When she didn't bother readjusting the bodice of her dress if it wasn't perfect and it had an abundance of creases five minutes after she put it on. When her skirt seams were always slightly off because she didn't care enough to line them up, when she didn't wear stockings at all. His Lenore was all about slight imperfections, and Erik sorely missed that. He was half tempted to 'readjust' Lenore's clothes to match his expectations, tousle her hair and get those stockings off.

Lenore sat down on the sofa, her posture precise and her ankles crossed right over left. She was supposed to slouch, and sit with her legs slightly open, not caring how improper it looked because it was more comfortable than crossing her legs. _I know my Lenore is in there somewhere. Why can't I find you, Lenore Parker? I can't bring you back if you hide behind this proper lady._

"Thank you for the roses. They're very nice," she said politely.

"I'm glad you like them," he replied mechanically, having had quite a proper upbringing for the first nine years of his life. Old habits died hard, it seemed, and he could only be a gentleman around a perfect lady like this. _You were supposed to complain that I didn't get the exact color you wanted, or that one of them wasn't blooming to your satisfaction, or even that I got you one more than you asked for, and that the extra one was blue, which was clearly not what you wanted._

He had seen the old Lenore last night, both times she ran from him. That need to escape him to make sure she didn't end up a possession or plaything, that inability to trust him. That was his Lenore. This new one trusted Hiroshi as a father, though that was starting to waver. This Lenore knew she was destined to become an object for a man and had resigned herself to that fate.

And she would make the best of her fate, as a proper lady. Fake smiles and mock happiness would become her daily masks. At night, when the masks would finally fall off, no one would be there to see the tears or hear the heart-wrenching sobs. No one would ever know that she was bird dying to be free of her gilded cage.

_Don't you understand? It doesn't have to be that way at all. You will lock yourself in that cage and then blame your social standing for having placed you in a cage created by your own ignorance and hatred. Every high class woman does this. But you don't have to. I don't expect you to smile all the time, or be happy when you wish to feel angry or upset. If you cry, I want to wipe away those tears and quiet those cries. In my kingdom, you would be free to do as you pleased. There would be no cage to hold you in._

"Would you like some breakfast?" he inquired properly.

"Yes, that would be quite nice," she replied.

Erik wanted to strangle her for not having some snarky comment about how long he waited to ask her that. When breakfast was ready, he left her eating by herself to go see his Lenore. Erik didn't usually eat much at all, and he didn't care about being a proper host right now.

Closing the door behind him, Erik walked over to her coffin, the glass cover carved in an intricate pattern of row upon row of burning candles her image almost obscured by the ice crystals that consumed the glass. Erik brushed some of the ice off and laid a hand on the cover over top of the folded hands resting over her heart.

"I know you're in her, but I can't seem to find you except in the moments I least expect it," Erik said sadly. "Is she keeping you from me?" He wished she could speak to him, wished there were some way to reach her. "Your heart was so beautiful. Why did it have to betray you like this? Why didn't you just accept Judgment? It hurts to see her looking like you but not actually being you. I was doing so well until she came here, you know. I was dealing with this very well."

The tears slipping from his eyes told the truth. He hadn't even begun to deal with it. Hell, he'd spent almost every moment of the last twenty two years in this frigid freezer with her body because he couldn't bear to let go. Not because he had promised not to, but because he couldn't bring himself to let her go.

But Erik lost track of time, standing beside her and crying for the woman he had lost.

"Erik? God, this room is freez"- Lenore's voice came from the doorway. Turning, Erik saw her eyes, wide with horror at seeing what looked like her own dead body under glass. She toppled to the ground in a dead faint.

* * *

"OMG! I'M DEAD!" Lenore screeched.

Erik grabbed her arm and attempted to convince her otherwise while taking her far from Lenore Parker's grave.

"Well, you certainly scarred her for life," Hiroshi said, seemingly unaware of the duct tape binding his ankles and wrists. "I must say, I approve of such scarring of the mortal mind."

"Didn't I drug you a few hours ago?" the authoress inquired.

"Yes, but I recovered quickly."

"Okay, I'll up the dosage," the authoress said brightly, pulling out the syringe. "While I take care of my Jack, why don't you people review?"

"Hopefully it won't take you as many tries as it did last time to find my veins," Hiroshi sighed.

"Oh, well…it was fun to watch you squirm while I wiggled the needle around under your skin," the authoress admitted with a devious grin.

"Oh cupcake, you look so scrumptious when you smile like that. Can't we just have sex?"

"Um…well…I can't remove the duct tape or else you might try to scare me by kissing me again…That was just disturbing…"

"Whoever said you had to remove the duct tape?"

"You're into bondage? That's more than I needed to know, man." The authoress quickly located Hiroshi's vein and loaded him with morphine. "Don't forget to review, please."


	32. Chapter 32

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place in about 20 years into the future, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore opened her eyes, panic flooding her. She was dead, she had seen her body. _Wait a minute. I'm in a **sunlit** room. In a huge comfy bed. In my sky blue satin pajamas…_What if it had all been some weird dream? Maybe she'd passed out from nerves at her audition and dreamed the whole thing. 

She slid out of bed, putting her feet in her fuzzy black slippers and heading out of the room. There was her father, sitting on the couch and reading an ancient classic novel. Another one of those memories came to mind. _Hiroshi, sitting in Erik's chair before the fireplace. He scared her…she didn't know what to expect from him at all. And the way he treated her like some kind of domesticated animal was disturbing._

He wasn't her father…no, he was…wasn't…was…wasn't…

"Oh, kitten, you're awake," Hiroshi said, looking up from his book. "I was worried about you. You've been out for two days."

_He's concerned about me, so he must be my father. But then what about that other memory? Where are these memories coming from? Maybe I have a dual personality and she's made up a whole different history for herself that has her afraid of him._

Before she could reply, a door opened to her left. "Has she awoken yet?" Erik asked worriedly, coming out into the living room.

"Erik!" she cried, pure delight filling her. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him. He'd keep her safe from Hiroshi. Erik wouldn't let that monster touch her, he'd-

No, Hiroshi was her father; she didn't need to be afraid of him. Mad at him, yes. Afraid, no. He had betrothed her to Erik, tried to keep her from escaping, and had caused her that horrible pain. She should be delivering a tongue-lashing he'd never forget.

_He's not my father! He's Jack the bloody Ripper! As long as I stay close to Erik, I'll be fine. No, I don't like Erik, I was betrothed against my will, and my father is not Jack the Ripper. Yes, he is!_

Lenore let go of Erik and put her hands on her head. Where was this other person coming from? Why had this other girl been planting false memories over the past few days? Why had she started actually conversing with Lenore now? Hoping to retain some of her sanity, Lenore concentrated on who she was.

_I am Lenore Aithne Wolfe, age twenty one, Harvard graduate, with a father who loves me very much. I am Lenore Aithne Wolfe. I'm not you, whoever you are. I'm Lenore Aithne Wolfe, age twenty one, Harvard graduate, with a father who…wait, what about Mom? Ember? My brothers, John and Mark?_

_I'm Lenore Serenity Parker, age twenty one, high school graduate, with a family who loves me loads, even if they suffocate me all the time. Dad picks on me all the time, and Mom tries to run my life. Mark got married almost three years ago to Ember's friend Tori, and I caught the bouquet at their wedding. John's almost always letting me have my way; I can talk him into anything. And Ember's the one I can almost be myself around. I mean, it wasn't always so great at home, but it's gotten better since the accident. I used to be ignored, because my grades weren't as great as John's had been when he was in school, and I didn't behave as well as Mark did. Ember and I were never fussed over at all, except to tell us how much of a disappointment we were. But after the accident, Mom always tried to make me out to be the best of her children. I hated it when she told me not to buy an Opera House…The Opera House…Erik…Erik is the man I love, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with._

_Stop it! That's not true! None of it! I don't have siblings, I don't have a mother! I don't love Erik, I don't want to spend my life with him! Maybe I could learn to, in time, but not yet!_

_It is true! I have three siblings, and an overbearing mom! I love Erik with every part of myself, and I will spend the rest of my life with him!_

Lenore dropped to the floor, clutching her head desperately. "Father, help me," she sobbed. "Mom? Ember? Anybody? Somebody…don't let her take over. Miss Nancy, please help me, you have to! …John, can't you do something? …Father, tell her to stop! …Mark? Tori? Please! You can't just leave me here, you have to help me, you have to! …Miss Nancy, tell her to be quiet. I promise I'll be good if you make her stop talking."

* * *

Erik stared at her, sitting on the floor, holding onto her skull as if it could help her maintain sanity. Lenore Wolfe would call to someone, then Lenore Parker would cry out. Somehow, his Lenore had found her way back and was now fighting for control. Well, asking someone to help her gain it was probably the more appropriate way to put it.

"Erik? Erik, where are you? Please don't let her keep us apart, Erik, I want to be with you! …No, I don't want you, Erik. I hate you! I don't want to marry you! Leave me alone, I don't need you! …Erik? Please? …Miss Nancy, you're still sane. You're not crazy like Father. You can make her be quiet, Miss Nancy, I know you can. I promise I won't ever shave the cat again, or run off by myself! …Erik …Miss Nancy why won't you help me? Why? …Erik …I need someone to help me …Erik …no …Erik …no," Lenore argued with herself. "Please, Erik, help …help me. Someone. Help me, please. Please! Help me, help me, I don't want to go mad. Erik, help me! Maybe if you tell her to be quiet, she'll listen."

Erik dropped down beside her and took the girl into his arms. _How can I tell the one I want back to leave Lenore Wolfe alone? Yet I can't tell Lenore Wolfe to just give up her life and let Lenore Parker take over either._

"I'm dead," Lenore Parker wailed with Lenore Wolfe's voice. "Oh my God, I'm dead. And this is Hell, isn't it? Being trapped inside someone who won't let me out, being this close to you and knowing I can't control what happens. But I chose Second Life, I…this is all his fault, all his fault! Why did you tell me not to be afraid of him? …Stop it! Just stop it! This is my life, my body! You're not part of it, you never were! Don't touch me, Erik, you don't have to touch me to shut her up!"

"I don't want her to be silenced," Erik admitted honestly.

"You can't help her!" Lenore protested, fear evident in her eyes as she began to squirm in his embrace. "Don't help her, this isn't her life! …I knew I could count on you, Erik. Now make her leave us in peace."

"I can't do that either," Erik confessed. It wouldn't be fair to tell Lenore Wolfe to give up living. "You must decide between the two of you how this will be handled."

"I won't have her pretty little memories of the two of you, she's trying to make me love you so that she can get out! I won't stand for it! …Well, I don't want your memories of Jack the Ripper as a loving father, you're just trying to keep a hold on a past that you wouldn't have had if it wasn't for me!"

Erik looked to Hiroshi; maybe he'd have some helpful advice or something. Hiroshi had laid his book aside and was munching on some small candies while watching the scenario in complete fascination. _Why did I ever think he'd be any help?_

"Share," Erik suggested. "Share the body, accept each other's memories."

"I don't want to share with her!" both personalities said at once.

"Hiroshi, perhaps you could offer some assistance instead of gawking," Erik said, shooting the man a dark glare.

"I'm not gawking. I'm observing and taking mental notes, Satan will be delighted to hear that someone's remembered their First Life," Hiroshi replied.

"Indeed, Conner, that's splendid news," a dark, chilling voice commented from behind Erik. "I must say, Keeran, of all the pets the immortals have ever owned, yours is the most intriguing."

The figure the voice belonged to was a woman, with rather large breasts and shoulder-length chocolate brown hair, wearing a cream tank top and a black skirt that barely covered anything. Black stiletto heels added height to the imposing figure. Satan never looked the same twice in the mortal realm. Violet eyes were locked on to Lenore's trembling form in Erik's arms.

"Master, you look quite lovely today," Hiroshi remarked. "Perhaps, if you're not too busy"-

"I didn't come here from seducing the Pope to have sex with you, Conner," Satan informed him. "No, I came to see Lenore. How much of your First Life do you remember, little one?"

Lenore absolutely refused to say a word. Of course, Erik didn't blame her. Mortals had an instinctive fear of Satan, and having him standing there in the flesh would paralyze any righteous mortal with pure terror.

"Don't be afraid, I haven't come to collect your soul or anything of that nature," Satan said soothingly. "Keeran, let go of her." Reluctantly, Erik released her, though she tried desperately to cling to him. As soon as she was freed of his embrace, Satan took her in his arms, gently stroking her hair. "Now, tell me how much you remember. This information is vital to my business."

"Don't want to talk to you," she finally muttered, trembling in his arms. "Go away or…or I'll start quoting scripture."

"Darling, if you'll tell me what I want to know, I'll give you anything you want," Satan tempted, taking her over to the couch. "You know, I've got a few people in Heaven who can see to it that you're guaranteed entry, if you like. Or you can have immortality. Would you like that? To stop aging right now, and never have to die? Do you want money? Power? Love? Whatever it is, I'll give it to you." There was a brief pause. "Maybe you'd like Erik on a leash, hm? That's easily arranged. It's a win-win situation, little one. I get what I want, you get what you want."

Erik winced at the idea of being given to her. Was Satan so eager for this information that he'd give one of the immortals to a human like a pet? _Unfortunately it would seem he is._ Erik couldn't even begin to describe how much he would loathe being at Lenore's beck and call for the rest of eternity. God would condemn her to Hell if she treated an immortal with less than human decency, which would certainly allow her to keep him throughout the ages. _And Satan would see to it that I was the most loyal of pets for her too. Anything for his precious information._

"I want her out of my head," Lenore said softly. Then her tone changed to that of Lenore Parker. "I agree with her. But you'd better give me a new body or something, cuz I'm not just gonna drift off into oblivion!"

"Well, I don't have bodies just lying around…" Satan replied.

"Erik's got my body, he's kept it in tact," she pointed out.

"Yes, well, resurrection is a heavenly thing, I'm not really into that sort of miracle stuff," Satan explained. "Conception in sin is more my thing."

"That's fine, I'll start this whole thing over again. God knows someone fucked it all up," she retorted, glaring at Hiroshi for a brief moment.

"Oh, pardon me for giving you a beautiful body and a great education," Hiroshi said in his defense. "And I'm sure you couldn't possibly forgive me for taking you back to Erik."

"It doesn't really matter anyway; Third Life doesn't exist," Satan informed her.

"So you lied when you said you'd give me anything I want. …Of course, he lied, he's the Prince of Darkness. What a book this would make! Though people would probably think I'm mentally unstable, claiming to have had a conversation with the Devil, who was a woman."

"Why aren't I called the King of Darkness?" Satan mumbled. "Always prince, never king. Is it too much to ask that my position be recognized as kingly?"

"What about time travel, do you do that?" Lenore snapped, wanting the attention to remain focused on her problems.

"Well, that depends upon your definition of the word," Satan replied casually, examining his fingernails. "Oh, shit! Look, this one's a millimeter shorter than all the others."

"Time travel is a phrase, not a word. And I want this new Lenore out of my head, then you put me back in time before Erik met Christine," Lenore demanded.

"She didn't mean that," Erik replied instantly.

"New Lenore gone and back in time before Erik met Christine in exchange for answering my questions about remembering First Life. Do we have an accord?" Satan inquired, holding out his hand with perfectly manicured nails.

"I think Lenore would like to be a bit more specific," Erik hissed. Good God, the woman was making a deal with the devil and not even thinking about how she phrased things. Back in time before Erik met Christine could be any period of time before then, even so far back as before Christ was born. Not to mention Satan had specifically told her that time travel had more then one definition. He could place Lenore in any form of life he chose. She might be granted human form for being so generous to give the devil information, but she might not. She could be a fish, a cat, an insect, a flower, anything!

"Kitten, maybe you should think about who you're making a deal with. Didn't you learn anything in Harvard?" Hiroshi added.

"Conner, be quiet, she doesn't need your help," Satan reprimanded. "Honestly, what gives you the gall to ruin a deal between your master and a mortal?"

"Master wouldn't give me a fuck today," Hiroshi replied.

* * *

"You're all so vulgar," Michael commented as he climbed out of the fireplace. God always chose the strangest entrances. Michael straightened his red tunic, thankful that God always kept dust, soot, and other such stains from tainting the fabric. Saved time, really, not having to brush off soot. Running a hand quickly through his golden curls (his hair looked so much better when tousled), he looked at the girl with his sparkling blue eyes. Lenore gave a fearful squeak and covered her eyes. 

"I must say, Lucifer, you'll looking exceptionally pretty today," Michael observed.

"Fuck off," Satan replied.

"Now is that any way to speak to an archangel?"

"I don't give a shit what your religious standing is," Satan snapped.

"Don't make me cut out your tongue with my flaming sword," Michael threatened. "It'd be too much bother for both of us."

"Then why don't you spread those pretty white wings of yours and buzz off? I'm busy at the moment, I don't have time to waste bickering with an inferior."

"I'm here on business," Michael returned, walking over to the couch and sitting down on Lenore's other side.

Lenore gave a high-pitched whimper, curling up and making herself as small as possible.

"Darling, just ignore him, alright?" Satan coaxed. "We were having a lovely conversation before he came along, weren't we?"

"Sounded vulgar and ugly, if you ask me," Michael remarked.

"Well she didn't, so keep your mouth shut," Satan snarled. "Now, darling, would you like something to eat? You haven't had anything for two days, I'm sure you're starving."

Lenore nodded her head, eyeing the archangel and the devil warily.

"Let's not overwhelm your stomach on the first meal. How about a pomegranate and a glass of apple juice?" Satan proposed, the items suggested appearing in his hands.

"Nonsense!" Michael said. "Everyone knows pancakes with maple syrup and orange juice are the logical choice for breakfast!" A plate of pancakes covered in the delicious syrup appeared in one of his hands, and a glass of orange juice in the other.

Lenore looked back and forth between the two men sitting on the couch. She seemed unsure of which meal to accept. Finally, she grabbed the apple juice from Satan and the pancakes from Michael. "If I eat the holy pancakes, I'll cancel out the evils of the demon apple juice, right?" she asked.

"No, the demonistic qualities of the juice shall prevail," Satan proclaimed.

"Actually, the sacred qualities of the pancakes will cancel out the evils of the juice, but the juice also cancels out the purity of the pancakes. Balancing between the two like that is similar to just eating regular food," Michael replied honestly.

"I need a fork," she mumbled. Two forks were presented immediately, and Lenore trembled, not sure which fork to take.

It was a tense moment. Lenore would reach for one fork, stop, then reach for the other, stop, and turn back to the first one. It was an endless cycle. _Come on, girl, take the heavenly fork, you know you want to! Start denying Lucifer with something simple like a fork, it will build your confidence so you can refuse any further proposals._

That immortal, Erik, came around the couch and offered the girl a fork, and she stared at it as if it were a snake. "I got it from the kitchenette, so unless Hiroshi's learned how to curse the forks, there's nothing to fear from it," Erik informed her.

Lenore looked at Mephistopheles, then at Michael. "Um, I like his fork best," she said tentatively, taking the fork Erik offered. "It's, um…prettiest. It's not all covered in elaborate designs like yours. It's plain and simple. Very nice."

"Well, don't just sit there and stare, kitten. Eat your pancakes before they get cold," Hiroshi instructed.

"Yes, Father…Ripper." The last word was muttered bitterly, the old Lenore refusing to let herself call Hiroshi 'father'.

As soon as Lenore had a bite in her mouth, Lucifer began. "So, now that you've got something to eat, maybe we should get some decent clothes on you. Can't have you sitting around demons and archangels in pajamas, after all."

A tight, skimpy blood red dress appeared in place of her pajamas and Lenore dropped her fork in shock. There was a distinct sigh from Erik, who went to the kitchen to retrieve another fork when the one on the floor disappeared and Michael and Satan offered her fresh forks. Swallowing, she licked remnants of syrup from her lips, then screamed when her dress changed to a very modest garment in white.

Erik gave her the new fork while her outfit kept switching back and forth, then disappeared into one of the bedrooms, returning moments later with a pair of black slacks and a white dress shirt. Reaching over the back of the couch, he disrupted the outfit quarrel by ripping off the garment she had on (the red skimpy dress at the time).

Shrieking like a banshee, Lenore attempted to cover her breasts. "It's nothing we haven't all seen before, I assure you," Erik told her sharply. "Here, put these on." He handed her the clothes and Lenore frantically tugged the shirt on, buttoning every last button before concerning herself with the pants.

"You wouldn't be helping this religious winged nut, would you, Erik?" Satan snapped angrily.

"If he is, perhaps God will grant him redemption," Michael mused. Probably not, but it was worth suggesting if the immortal was going to help Michael.

"I'm not looking for redemption, I'm merely trying to make comfortable a mortal who's frightened out of her wits by the clash of the forces of good and evil," Erik sighed.

"There is no clash," both men responded at once.

"I'm rather disappointed I've not yet found occasion to draw my fiery sword," Michael added.

"Bloody archangel," Lucifer muttered. "Always looking for a fight."

"Don't worry, master, we outnumber him," Hiroshi interjected.

"True. Rather foolish of Michael to come all by his lonesome. But that's not what we're here to discuss, is it, darling?" Satan said, turning his attentions back to the girl who was dressed and halfway through her pancakes. "Now, just tell me what you want."

"Don't tell him anything, pumpkin, he won't keep his word anyway," Michael pointed out.

"Would you like the Wal-Mart industry?"

"You'd offer her the top source of your soul income?"

"Anything she wants."

"Oh, can you make her a saint then? Can you appoint her to your former position in Heaven?"

The bickering continued, becoming more and more aggressive each moment. Just as Michael was about to leap up and challenge the demonic creature, Lenore scrambled over the back of the couch and flung herself behind Erik.

"Now look what you've done, Lucifer! You scared the poor thing," Michael shouted.

"I scared her? I'm not the one who climbed out of the fireplace with sissy white wings and kept talking about drawing a flaming sword!" Satan argued.

* * *

Erik certainly didn't expect Michael and Lucifer to get along, but this was absolutely ridiculous. Lenore was scared so badly that the new part of her didn't care that it was Erik she was using for her protection. Sighing and shaking his head, he took her hand and led her out of the hotel suite while the two angels shouted threats and taunts at one another, Hiroshi watching closely to determine the exact moment he should leap in to come to Satan's aid, should Satan need it. 

Lenore stared back over her shoulder. "Was I just in a room with the Devil and the Archangel Michael?" she gasped.

"Yes, you were," Erik answered. "You've certainly caught God's attention now."

"I have to write all that down, it'll be perfect for my book," she muttered, searching her pockets for pen and paper but coming up with nothing. "I don't suppose you"-

"No," Erik replied.

"Do you think God would let me have Lucifer's old position? Not that I want to die again, but it'd be kinda cool to be in charge of the cherubim."

"You just love to be in control, don't you?" Erik chuckled.

"Hell yeah," Lenore said. It was his Lenore, for the moment at least.

"I'm surprised you didn't jump at the offer to have me on a leash," he commented, a slight grimace crossing his features.

"It was a very tempting offer," Lenore remarked. "But I remembered how much I disliked being thought of as an object. Kinda puts it in a new light when you're on the receiving end of such treatment, now doesn't it?"

"You're a regular little saint," Erik said.

"Lenore Parker, patron saint of immortals' freedom," Lenore replied with a smile. "We are not a saint! Do you realize what such blasphemy could do? Honestly, get a hold of yourself, Parker!" It seemed the new Lenore was back.

"I have a feeling this is going to be a difficult next few weeks," Erik mumbled to himself.

* * *

It was hard to be two people at once. Lenore hated it. Sometimes she was her old self, flirting with Erik and being common as you please, and then moments later she was her new self, distant and cold to Erik, and proper as a Queen. Lenore fought with herself as they rode in the cab back to the Opera House, trying to get one side to win over the other. 

"Wait, we're going in the front door?" Lenore inquired, her old self shocked that Erik would risk being seen entering the building.

"We need to see the managers for a moment," Erik explained, pulling her along behind him with ease.

He pushed open the door without knocking (how very rude!) and sat down in front of their desks, causing Rosalyn and Ember to look up.

"Erik!" they both exclaimed, not used to seeing him in their office except to pick up his salary and discuss casting.

"Good God, you guys are old," Lenore commented.

"Lenore? Do…do you remember?" Ember breathed.

"No, I'm just gonna come waltzing in and tell two women I work for that they're old," Lenore replied sarcastically. "Parker! They're our managers, that was very rude. I apologize for her behavior."

"She's…half and half," Erik informed the two women. "I believe as soon as she accepts the memories of her old life, the two will blend together. Hopefully only the positive attributes to both sides will remain."

"You're not very polite at all!" Lenore snapped. "Yeah, I didn't appreciate that either, Erik. If you don't apologize for that right now, I'll never let you fuck me again."

"I have no need to apologize to Lenore Parker, because she only possesses positive qualities. And I find that there's no real need to apologize to Lenore Wolfe either, as she is to be my wife and cannot stop me from exercising my rights with her body as a husband," Erik said smoothly.

"Aww, you're so sweet, I'm sorry I yelled at you," Lenore apologized. "You call that sweet? He's basically saying that he'll perform legalized rape on me, and you apologize for yelling at him? Parker, you're severely unstable."

"As I'm sure you can see, Lenore's really not in any condition to perform," Erik addressed Ember and Rosalyn. "Also, you'll be receiving some guests rather shortly. Hiroshi, Satan, and Michael will be dropping by to see if they can't find her. Tell them I am not accepting any visitors at this point in time, please."

"Wait a second. Who's coming by?" Rosalyn inquired.

"Hiroshi, Satan, and the archangel Michael."

"Hiroshi as in Jack the Ripper?"

"Correct."

"Satan as in demonic, lives-in-hell, steals-peoples'-souls, Satan?"

"Correct again."

"The archangel Michael as in the one that cast Lucifer out of Heaven?"

"Really, Rosalyn, you're so very intelligent."

"You know, this managing an Opera House thing gets weirder every year," Ember muttered.

"At least it's never dull," Rosalyn said with a shrug.

"Could I borrow that pen, please?" Lenore suddenly inquired, several sheets of unused paper that she had neglected to ask for in her hands.

"Chérie, I have parchment and ink at home, you don't need to steal it from them," Erik sighed.

"I'm not writing my book on parchment with a quill pen and inkpot, thank you," Lenore retorted.

"I own fountain pens," Erik informed her tersely.

"You mean you're young enough to know what a fountain pen is?" Lenore quipped. "Now who's being rude, Wolfe? He's your elder, shouldn't you show proper respect?"

"Could you maybe not do that?" Ember said. "It's a bit nerve-racking."

"We should be going as it is. I suggest you continue to leave Mademoiselle Moreau in the position of the diva until Lenore is feeling better," Erik said, standing up and leading Lenore over to the wall.

"Cuz I'm just feeling so ill," she retorted. "More appropriately, I'm feeling like a mentally unstable woman in severe need of a psychiatrist. Then why don't you talk to Sebastian, hm? Who? Sebastian Rousseau, he'll do a good job of fucking up your mind."

"Good day, Ember, Rosalyn," Erik said, shoving Lenore into the darkness through a hidden door. "Remember, no visitors, please."

* * *

"I think they've both lost it," Rosalyn commented moments later. "Satan? Michael? I mean, that's a bit overboard." 

The door swung open to admit Hiroshi and a woman with large breasts and chocolate brown shoulder-length hair dressed in a cream tank top, black mini skirt, and black stiletto heels. Violet eyes glared at the man holding her by the arm, who was wearing an Armani suit. His curly blonde hair was slightly mussed, and his blue eyes sparkled in an otherworldly sort of way.

"Let go Michael, or I'll smite you where you stand!" the woman hissed.

"Honestly, Lucifer, a gentleman always escorts a lady. What would people think if I walked with you, yet didn't hold your arm companionably?"

"They'd think you're a normal twenty-first century man," Hiroshi said. "You know, Michael, for an archangel, you're quite an eyeful. Perhaps if you have a few minutes, we could"-

"No!" Michael and Lucifer snapped at the same moment.

"Erik doesn't want any visitors today," Ember informed the odd trio.

"Well, that's the end of that then. Let go of me now, Michael."

"Only if you swear on your immortality that you won't go near the girl again unless I accompany you, and you won't go back to seducing the Pope," Michael said sternly.

"Don't you have better things to do than pry into my business?" Lucifer snarled. After a moment of silence, Satan spoke again. "Alright, I won't go back to seducing the Pope."

"And the girl?"

"I can't make any promises regarding that, she's one of the Circle's pets," Lucifer said loftily.

"I suppose it was a bit much to hope you'd leave the girl alone," Michael sighed. "You can't blame me for trying though."

"Of course I can."

"That would be a lie."

"Yes, and I'm the father of lies, so what's your point?"

* * *

"It seems cupcake has left me alone in her room for the time being," Hiroshi observed. "Perhaps all you wonderful, beautiful readers out there could convince her to remove the duct tape and stop giving me morphine when you review. Surely you all don't wish to see me mistreated in such a fashion, hm? Just a few simple reviews from you readers and she'd set me free, I'm sure of it."


	33. Chapter 33

Props to you, Mominator! The only reader to mention Erik can't really keep demons and archangels out of his house if they want to drop in. I never pointed this out (and perhaps I should have), but Michael, being the archangel that he is, won't go anywhere he's not welcome unless he's there on official business. Therefore, Michael won't go down there, and Satan knows that if he goes down to try and tempt her, Michael will be sent in again. Needless to say, Michael would not be pleased, and Satan knows better than to piss off Michael.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"Erik, this is really weird," Lenore commented.

"What is?" Erik inquired. _Being two people? I can imagine it would be…_

"My legs…they're perfect," she whispered. Erik smiled; he remembered what it was like trying to adjust to having a good portion of his face perfect, to having a nose. "And my chest is larger. And I have an hourglass sort of figure that I didn't before. And my ass is bigger. And my face is amazingly clear of any acne. I…I'm prettier now, aren't I? You like it, right? That I'm more beautiful now?"

"You were beautiful before," Erik informed her, "and you are still beautiful now. You once told me that beauty is a light in the heart, and though your body may have changed, that light in your heart has not."

"And that's why we're marrying him, Wolfe," Lenore said proudly. "Yes, it seems there's more to him than his money and the fact that…never mind. Oh, go on and tell him Wolfe. If you won't, I will. Suit yourself. We were suffering severe floods of hot desire in the restaurant that night every time we looked at you, Erik. There was even an occasion when we just pictured you in our mind and- That's quite enough! These aren't proper things to discuss with the man."

"Why ever not, mademoiselle? We're going to be married, after all," Erik responded.

"Because it's simply not done in high society, that's why. Well, high society can go screw itself. Why are you so vulgar, Parker? Because I'm common middle class."

"Are the two of you going to keep at this for eternity?" Erik asked, not sure how much longer he could take this.

"Well, if she wasn't stubborn, I could take over and resume my life. Oh, I'm stubborn? At least I'm not selfish and want to take over someone else's life."

She bickered with herself for the rest of the journey back to the house on the lake. Erik almost wished Satan and Michael would pop up just so she'd be quiet. When they finally set foot in the house, Lenore turned and looked at Erik.

"Where's my engagement ring?" It was both sides of Lenore that asked, surprisingly enough.

"I took it off while you were in bed; I didn't want it catching on the sheets," he explained.

"Well, I want it now," she demanded.

"It's in the bedroom," Erik informed her. He wasn't going to go running off just because she wanted something. She could get it herself, there was nothing wrong with her legs in this life.

The moment she returned from fetching her ring, she had another question for him. "Erik…do you still have my necklace from before? The one with the black pearl?"

Erik took a deep breath. "Yes, though I'm afraid it will be very difficult to retrieve," he said.

"I'd really like it. Where is it?" she asked.

"On your…on your…" He couldn't finish that sentence.

"Oh," she mumbled.

"But I can get it if you really wish," Erik assured her.

"No, leave it there. It…it belongs there." He could hear that she was on the verge of tears. "You know, I was always afraid that if I opened my heart to someone that…it would break." A slight chuckle that was more of a sob than a laugh issued from her throat. "I was right."

Erik cupped her face in his hands, tilting it up so that she had to look at him. "It wasn't opening your heart to someone that broke it. And if it somehow did cause your death, take comfort in the fact that you are truly loved."

"Then that's why you're doing this?" the new Lenore said. "Is it because I look like her, because a part of her is in me, that you want to marry me?"

"Yes," Erik answered truthfully.

"It's okay," she said softly, though he knew it was anything but okay. "I wouldn't have gotten to marry for love anyway." She pulled away from him, heading for the bedroom. "I haven't had any lessons for two days. Shouldn't we work on getting my voice back in shape?"

Erik sighed and stood there for a few minutes while she went in without him. _Why did you have to choose Second Life? Now I'll end up hurting half of you. That half will die, and I don't want to be the cause of that. _At some point, one side of her was going to win this war, and stay in her body permanently, while the other part faded into nothingness.

The melody started just as he walked into his room; Hiroshi had mentioned that Lenore had had piano lessons.

I've been looking in the mirror for so long  
That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side.  
Oh, the little pieces falling, shatter.  
Shards of me,  
Too sharp to put back together.  
Too small to matter,  
But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces.  
If I try to touch her,  
And I bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe no more.

Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirit's well.  
Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child.  
Lie to me,  
Convince me that I've been sick forever.  
And all of this,  
Will make sense when I get better.  
I know the difference,  
Between myself and my reflection.  
I just can't help but to wonder,  
Which of us do you love?  
So I bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe now...  
Bleed,  
I bleed,  
And I breathe,  
I breathe,  
I breathe-  
I breathe no more.

That voice he had trained to hold perfect pitch and clarity also knew how to deliver a piece so that it devastated the soul. Turning away, he walked back out into the drawing room. Lenore would spend the afternoon singing songs of utter depression and despair, and he didn't think he could listen to it. He knew those feelings too well.

* * *

After finishing with Breathe No More, Lenore moved into Boulevard of Broken Dreams. That was followed with Numb, which was proceeded by Wish I Had An Angel. Somewhere I Belong, Losing My Religion, When I'm Gone, Tears of Pearls, Watch Me Bleed, December, Behind Blue Eyes, Vindicated, the list went on and on.

Finishing One Last Breath, she decided she should try to lighten things up a bit. So she sang There's a Light (Over at the Frankenstein Place). _Not good enough, let's try something else._

Every now and then I get a  
little bit lonely and you're never coming around.  
Every now and then I get a  
little bit tired of listening to the sound of my tears.  
Every now and then I get a  
little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by.  
Every now and then I get a  
little bit terrified and then I see the look in your eyes.

Every now and then I fall apart  
Every now and then I fall apart

Every now and then I get a  
little bit restless and I dream of something wild.  
Every now and then I get a  
little bit helpless and I'm lying like a child in your arms.  
Every now and then I get a  
little bit angry and I know I've got to get out and cry.  
Every now and then I get a  
little bit terrified but then I see the look in your eyes.  
Every now and then I fall apart.  
Every now and then I fall apart.

And I need you now tonight.  
And I need you more than ever.  
And if you'll only hold me tight,  
We'll be holding on forever.  
And we'll only be making it right  
Cause we'll never be wrong together  
We can take it to the end of the line.  
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.  
I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark.  
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.  
I really need you tonight.  
Forever's gonna start tonight.  
Forever's gonna start tonight.

Once upon a time I was falling in love  
But now I'm only falling apart.  
There's nothing I can do  
A total eclipse of the heart.  
Once upon a time there was light in my life  
But now there's only love in the dark.  
Nothing I can say  
A total eclipse of the heart.

Every now and then I know  
you'll never be the boy you always you wanted to be.  
But every now and then I know  
you'll always be the only boy who wanted me the way that I am.  
Every now and then I know  
there's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you.  
Every now and then I know  
there's nothing any better, there's nothing that I just wouldn't do.  
Every now and then I fall apart.  
Every now and then I fall apart.

And I need you now tonight  
And I need you more than ever.  
And if you'll only hold me tight  
We'll be holding on forever.  
And we'll only be making it right  
Cause we'll never be wrong together  
We can take it to the end of the line.  
Your love is like a shadow on me all of the time.  
I don't know what to do and I'm always in the dark.  
We're living in a powder keg and giving off sparks.  
I really need you tonight.  
Forever's gonna start tonight.  
Forever's gonna start tonight.

Once upon a time I was falling in love  
But now I'm only falling apart.  
There's nothing I can do  
A total eclipse of the heart.  
Once upon a time there was light in my life  
But now there's only love in the dark.  
Nothing I can say  
A total eclipse of the heart.

_Why did I sing that? Every now and then I get a little bit lonely…Do I really need him tonight? Let's give this song thing another go._

Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation.

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.

Silently the senses abandon their defenses,

helpless to resist the notes you write;

for you compose the music of the night.

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor.

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender.

Hearing is believing, music is deceiving,

hard as lightning, soft as candlelight.

Dare I trust the music of the night?

I close my eyes, for my eyes will only tell the truth

and the truth isn't what I want to see.

In the dark it is easy to pretend

that the truth is what it ought to be.

Softly, deftly, music shall caress you.

Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you.

I open up my mind as my fantasies unwind

in this darkness which I know I cannot fight;

the darkness of the music of the night.

I close my eyes, start a journey to a strange new world

leave all thoughts of the world I knew before.

I close my eyes and let music set me free.

Only then is my soul where it longs to be.

Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.

Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation.

Let the dream begin, as my darker side gives in

to the power of the music that you write;

the power of the music of the night.

You alone can make my voice take flight.

Let me sing the music of the night.

Her hands clenched into fists and she pounded the ivory keys in her frustration. _Why can't I have a normal life like everyone else? Why do I have to be down here, falling in love with a man that my other half loved in a previous life? How can I trust that these are my feelings and not hers?_

"Beneath the Opera House, I know he's there," she began to whisper to herself. "He's with me on the stage; he's everywhere. And when my song begins, I always find the Phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind. I sing again with you, our strange duet. Your power over me grows stronger yet. I'll give my love to you, for love is blind. The Phantom of the Opera is now my mastermind."

_If I tell him how I feel, I'll have to acknowledge the feelings myself. And then there's no going back. What if he only wants her? What if he doesn't want any part of me? But if that was the case, then why didn't he help her take control? Why didn't he try to get rid of me?_

_What is that damn annoying feeling?_

Looking down to where said feeling was issuing from, which happened to be her left leg, she saw something move. Inching every so slowly up her leg was a rather large wolf spider. "Oh dear," she breathed softly. Closing her eyes tightly, she concentrated on Erik as hard as she could. _ERIK! _Erik failed to appear and the spider kept up its trek. It seemed to be quite content to finally settle itself on her upper left thigh, rather close to a very private area.

"Are you done practicing now?" Erik inquired after the spider had been resting on her thigh for a good ten minutes or more.

"Spider," she squeaked in a voice pitched so high that the word was completely unintelligible and probably would've made dogs howl had they been anywhere near her.

"Beg your pardon?" Erik said, coming over to the organ. Then he saw the spider "Oh. He's a rather large one, isn't he? A good four inches at least."

"Get it off," she hissed through gritted teeth.

Erik stood behind her and reached his right hand around her. "Whatever you do, try not to scream," Erik instructed. "Or curse at me if and most likely when my hand brushes certain areas."

Slowly, Erik began to slide his hand toward the spider. Seeing the movement, the spider skittered around a bit, moving up onto her lower abdomen. "The situation has gotten worse," Lenore informed Erik.

"Just hold still and keep quiet."

Lenore closed her eyes and tried to envision herself sitting down and having a wonderful conversation with Michael and Satan about theology, coming up with various questions that would greatly benefit her book. But her concentration slipped when she felt the spider move once again, coming to a stop on her right breast.

"Erik," she whimpered.

"I'm doing my best, but wolf spiders are known for their speed and sensitivity to movement," he replied. "Now keep quiet."

Erik employed both hands in the effort to catch the spider, coming at it from above and below at the same time. "HOLY HELL!" Lenore yelled when a sharp pain shot through her breast. The offending spider was successfully caged in Erik's right hand. Grabbing her with his left, he picked her up and used his inhuman strength to throw her over onto the bed.

"_Don't move other than to breathe!_" he commanded, his voice taking on that strange power of forcing her to do his bidding. Moments later, he returned with a glass in hand. "I'm afraid the next half hour is going to be very long, ma chérie."

Ripping open the white dress shirt, sending buttons flying, Erik positioned himself over her right breast. He latched onto the wound and began to suck out the venom. It hurt, but she couldn't twitch at all; his command still held her. The next half hour was compromised of Erik sucking on the wound, then spitting out the blood he'd extracted into the glass he'd brought in.

"Am I going to die?" she asked when he was finished.

"No," he answered confidently. "It was a defensive bite more than anything else, so it was most likely dry or if it had any venom, it was a rather small amount. I merely sucked out your blood for the prescribed half hour in case you were unlucky enough to have a full shot of venom."

"Or maybe you just like sucking on my breast," Lenore retorted playfully.

"I suppose there's always that," Erik grinned.

"Are you gonna let me move now?"

"No, I'm afraid you'll have to stay like this for the next twenty four hours. After that, I'll release you, but you're on strict bed rest until the end of the week."

"I'm not allowed to do anything more than lay here and breathe for a whole day?"

"You catch on rather quick, don't you?"

"This wouldn't have happened if you'd come in when I called," Lenore complained.

"You didn't call for me," Erik argued.

"Yes, I did! I called with my mind. Screamed frantically with my mind, actually, but still. You didn't come."

"It doesn't work like that, ma petite. I have to be in your mind to hear you, surely you know or remember that," Erik replied.

"Well what good are you, then?" she grumbled.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Surely you don't need me to remind you of the multiple ways I can please you."

"It's been so long, you've probably forgotten how," Lenore returned.

"Perhaps a refresher course is necessary then. We'll have a lesson this time tomorrow," Erik stated.

"What if I'm a poor teacher?"

"Whoever said you were the teacher?"

"What if I don't learn the lesson?" Lenore challenged.

Erik smirked. "Then I'll have to teach it again. I have an infinite amount of time on my hands that could use preoccupations such as giving lessons."

* * *

Erik was starting to feel worried for Lenore. Her two halves weren't bickering anymore; they were taking turns. Which would lead to one half eventually dominating and the other fading away. Though it seemed both sides of Lenore shared the fear of spiders.

He was currently in the process of searching the room for the spider's mate, as the mate was always somewhere close by. Finding it hiding underneath the desk, he scooped it up and took it outside the house. When he returned, Lenore asked the question he didn't want to hear.

"Is it dead?"

"Would it make you feel better if I lie and say 'yes'?"

"Of course that would make me feel better, knowing that it can come back at any moment and get a taste of my other breast while I'm blindly believing the thing's dead," she replied sarcastically. "I suppose you didn't kill the one that bit me either."

"Really, Lenore, it's not that bad," Erik defended the poor thing. "You'll live."

"Go have a breast implant, have a spider bite one of them, and then tell me it's not that bad."

Erik stared at her. What man in his right mind would want to have surgery to look like a woman? That was a disturbing thought. _That's my Lenore_…

"So…I'm already bored and I've only got twenty three hours and forty five minutes before I can do anything," Lenore mentioned. Erik said nothing, merely went about the room making sure there were no other spiders to prey on his precious chouchoute. "Wow, the level of boredom has increased. I'll probably die of boredom…"

"I do not entertain for free," Erik said.

"Wouldn't the smile you could bring to my face be sufficient payment?"

"I do not entertain for amusement," Erik informed her, wishing she would stop asking.

"Oh, come on. What else am I going to do for the next twenty four hours?"

"So I'm an amusement for you, mademoiselle? I was an amusement for another woman once, you know. The sultana loved watching me employ my talents in the art of murder. Perhaps I should borrow a member of the Opera cast to amuse you. Would you like that?" he snarled.

"I don't want you to kill anyone"-

"Oh? Then perhaps you wish to gawk at my face. Perhaps you'd prefer to see me as the chief exhibit of a traveling show?" Erik snapped. He would never let himself be reduced to someone else's source of amusement again! Never!

"Erik, stop it. I didn't mean to upset you, okay?"

"Well maybe you should stop to think before you make such stupid requests," he hissed.

"Stop it! I don't understand why you're reacting like this but"-

"No, you wouldn't understand. You've never spent three years of your life in a cage, having people pay to press around the bars and stare at your face."

There was a heavy silence between the two of them as they stared at one other, icy blue eyes filled with angry madness and brilliant blue eyes filled with pity. "I'm sorry," Lenore finally broke the silence. "I didn't know."

But it wasn't her fault at all. He'd never told her anything about his life except how he'd become immortal. He couldn't expect her to know, shouldn't have gotten so angry with her. She was like an ill child, asking for something to take her mind off her sickness.

"What will you have then? Sleights of hand? Music? Ventriloquism?" Erik inquired.

Lenore stared at him for a moment, baffled. Not that he blamed her. "Would you read to me?" she finally requested.

Erik nodded, going out into the drawing room to the bookshelves. His hand was halfway through pulling out the _Rubaiyat_ when his eyes fell upon a book he felt she would be interested in. Pushing the _Rubaiyat_ back into place, he removed the other book from the shelf and returned to her.

Though the book was more than twenty years old, the spine showed very little evidence of wear, as he had never been able to bring himself to read this book, or any of its companions.

"The Eye of the World," she noted with a smile. "You kept my books. From the looks of it, you took good care of them too."

* * *

Lenore had spent the last twenty four hours listening to Erik's voice read to her from the Wheel of Time series and slipping in and out of sleep. She had her eyes closed when she heard the book snap shut. She jumped a mile, her eyes flying open; she wasn't expecting such an abrupt end, considering they were in the middle the third book and where he left off didn't sound like the end of a chapter.

_Wait a minute, I moved! How did I miss the moment he released me?_

"I believe it's time for your lesson, ma petite," Erik said as he set the book aside.

"But…we didn't finish the chapter," Lenore said, slightly disappointed. She liked how beautiful he made the words sound. His voice made everything easy to visualize in her mind, and the battles no longer seemed jumbled bloody messes. Battles were intricate dances in his voice.

"You are"- he began, pausing to place a kiss on her forehead, "the strangest woman," another kiss, this time on the tip of her nose, "I've ever met." The third kiss landed on her lips, a very light touch that left her wanting more. "A man stops reading to you so that he may steal a few kisses and you complain that the chapter isn't finished."

"Because you can't just stop in the middle of a chapter, everyone knows that," Lenore said in her defense.

"If I'm reading to you, I may stop whenever I wish," Erik pointed out. "Even if I happen to be in the middle of a word." To keep her from replying, Erik pressed his lips to hers, drowning her in the deep well of passion that he'd contained for twenty two years.

When they finally came up for air, Lenore did what she did best; complain. "You should be on top of me, not sitting next to me."

"That's for tomorrow's lesson, provided you learn today's of course," Erik replied. He returned his lips to hers, slipping his tongue into her mouth.

_I remember this. It was so long ago…but it feels like it was just yesterday. Erik, why do I feel like you rip my soul out of my body every time you kiss me? Is that what love is? Losing your soul to another? Stop playing around with me, let's take this 'lesson' up a notch._

Erik pulled away from her. "How long has it been since Lenore Wolfe spoke?" he asked her.

"I haven't heard her for hours now," Lenore admitted.

"Call her, see if she responds."

Lenore didn't understand his concern, but did as he requested nonetheless. "Nothing," Lenore told him. "Well…not nothing exactly…just…memories. Shaving a cat, a governess called Miss Nancy, Hiroshi acting as my father, classes at Harvard and how the other Harvard girls were…cruel to me. I didn't have any friends…" She paused a moment. "No, I had friends. Jamie, Kathleen, Brad and Lily. But at the same time, I distinctly remember having no friends whatsoever. I remember public school, but I know I had private tutors."

Erik took a deep breath. Lenore Wolfe was, as far as could be discerned, gone. Those memories were from the mind, not her soul. Lenore would retain all the knowledge Wolfe had accumulated, of course, but that proper lady of a wealthy family was gone.

_I should feel remorse that Wolfe has faded. But somehow, the only thing I can think of is how pleased I am that Lenore Parker won control. That poor girl…she shouldn't have had to disappear. Why didn't she put up more of a fight?_

Then he realized that she hadn't simply lost the fight; she'd surrendered completely. The last song she had sung before she began to fade had been entitled One Last Breath. Her voice rang in his ears, the last few lines of the song. _"I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking, maybe six feet ain't so far down. Please come now, I think I'm falling holding on to all I think is safe." _If he'd only listened to that plea, at the moment she realized what she was giving up and wanted to turn back, he might have been able to help her somehow. _If you'd known, would you have helped her? Or would you have simply let her slip away, knowing you'd get the half you wanted back because of it?_

"Erik…I'll have to have my family at the wedding. How will they handle me suddenly being back from the dead and looking like this?" she said worriedly.

Erik merely shrugged. He had no idea how her family would take it. Probably not very well though. Hell, her brother Mark and his wife Tori had a daughter, Olivia, who was only a few weeks younger than Lenore.

"I should call my mom, she's probably…well, maybe she's not really grief-stricken anymore, it's been about twenty two years for her," Lenore remarked. "I…I would like to go visit them though. I wonder if Mom and Dad moved like they always talked about? What's happened to John since I've been gone? I've missed so much…"

"John married your friend Kathleen Devlin," Erik informed her.

"How do you know that?" Lenore inquired. "And I doubt he married Kathleen, she's about nine years younger than him."

_How to tell her…I suppose the honest truth is best._ "Your immediate family moved to Paris and the surrounding areas after your…" he paused; he had to say the word, it was absurd to be unable to say it," after your death. Mark and his family live in Puteaux, John and Kathleen are in Ville-d'Avray. Your mother lives in Saint Queen."

"…what about Dad?" she whispered after a moment.

"He…passed on three years ago," Erik responded.

"You…you're lying," she accused, tears in her eyes. "Dad can't be dead, and they wouldn't have all moved here."

"They came for a memorial service, and lingered to help Ember through her grief. They come here every August, to…to visit your…" He stopped there. It was hard for him to talk to her about her own death, about the tomb he had given her. "They wanted to be close to you and I would not allow them to take you and have you buried in your native country. Your mother spent a half a year down here, and would have starved herself to death had I not forced her eat. At first, it was only your parents that came to France. When your father died, your brothers moved into the surrounding areas to be near your mother. Your brothers and sister are the only reason she goes on living."

"I should go see her, then," Lenore said. "I know I'm supposed to be on strict bed rest, but couldn't I just"-

"No. Do you have any idea what an unexpected visit from her dead daughter could do to her?"

"But she's my mother, and she misses me!" Lenore argued.

"You're not to see her unless I accompany you," Erik said firmly. "When I feel the time is appropriate, then we'll go for a visit."

"I'm quite capable of visiting my mother on my own."

"Do you have the ability to hold together the threads that keep her grip on sanity when you explain what happened?" Erik asked. "Unless you've become immortal without telling me, I seriously doubt you can keep her sane."

"What about my brothers? Can I see them?"

"When the time is right. Thankfully enough, Ember hasn't spoken about you to any of them, and they don't often attend Carmen, so there's very little chance they've seen you. It would be a horrible shock to just drop in on them."

There was a long silence that stretched between them. "I suppose Hiroshi will have to give me away, then," she finally said. "But…all my friends are so much older now. And they think I'm dead. I can't exactly just drop them a line saying "yeah, I'm alive and I'm getting married. Let me know if you're coming." That'd be a horrible way to break it to them."

"I wasn't expecting a large wedding," Erik informed her. "Just the required number of witnesses to have it legalized."

"But…I want all my friends and family there," Lenore protested. "And I want lots of pictures, and a reception afterwards."

"We'll discuss this later, when I decide upon a date," Erik said dismissively.

"Excuse me, you mean we. When we decide on a date."

_I forgot that she has the exact opposite of my own opinion on every issue. _"I will decide the date, you need not concern yourself with that," Erik replied. "I believe a night service in the Madeleine would be best. Perhaps they'll be willing to light it by candle that evening for us."

"I'd prefer an afternoon wedding; that way the reception can serve as dinner and the night would be spent dancing," Lenore stated.

"We don't need a reception; we're not having many guests," Erik declared.

"What's the point of getting married in a place as big as the Madeleine if nobody's coming to our wedding?" Lenore snapped.

"Everyone who's anyone is married in the Madeleine, you silly girl," Erik explained.

"Since when do you care whether or not society thinks of you as an important, high class gentleman?"

Erik was silent for a few minutes. He didn't really care about society of course. "It is where I wish to be married. Do I need any other reason?" Erik responded.

"Why do you want to be married there? I could understand if we had thousands attending the ceremony, but you say we won't. So what's the point? Why not just get married in a little church or go to a Justice of the Peace, or whoever it is French couples go to when they elope?"

"Erik will have a proper Catholic wedding and the world will know it! Even God won't be able to ignore it if we're wed in the Madeleine! Then they'll all have to acknowledge that I am loved for myself, that I didn't force you or threaten you! And our nuptial mass will be the most divine music mortals have ever heard," Erik told her.

"Erik…I'm not Catholic. And I don't think the world really cares. God'll just be pissed that you stepped foot into one of his churches and then proceeded to defile the church and the whole matrimony thing by being a condemned ex-catholic immortal taking a saved Methodist human wife," Lenore tried to reason with him. "Let's think about getting married elsewhere…we could have the ceremony in the Opera House, wouldn't you like that?"

"We'll be married in the Madeleine, even if I have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you kicking and screaming all the way," Erik snapped.

"Whatever happened to the whole not forcing or threatening idea?" she muttered.

"That's not forcing you into marriage. It's merely forcing you to marry me at the location of my choosing."

"You're annoying. And stubborn. And I'm not getting married in the Madeleine unless I can invite as many people as I want," she snarled. "Thank God we'll never have to have any discussions about naming children."

"This marriage will go according to my wishes," Erik proclaimed. "I've waited far too long to have it any other way."

"Fine! Have your precious wedding! Though I think it'll be a bit difficult without the bride in attendance!"

"What do you intend to do? Run away? I'll hunt you down and drag you back," Erik said calmly. "I might even give you a few slaps in an attempt to knock some sense into that silly head of yours."

"BLOODY MAN!" Lenore yelled. "Why does everything have to be your way? Are you going to pick out my gown while you're at it?"

"I've already selected the final design," Erik informed her.

"NO! If there's one thing about this wedding that I have a say in, it's my dress," she shouted.

Erik simply went to the desk and opened the drawer containing the sketches he'd made during the month when he gave her music lessons. Pulling out the design he'd decided upon for her wedding gown, he returned to the bed and handed it to her.

* * *

"I hate you," she mumbled. His design was everything she wanted in a wedding gown. The snug bodice, the full skirt, the transparent bell sleeves that would reach mid calf, and a train that would trail ten feet behind the gown. The intricate beadwork and elaborate embroidery.

"I'd hoped you'd like it," Erik said with a smile. "Consider it as though you told me precisely what you wanted, look at it as if you'd designed the gown yourself."

"You suck."

"I'm afraid that's not in my cache of options, what with your wound and all," Erik replied.

"You know exactly what I meant," she muttered darkly. "So, what's the fabric going to be, oh master of making every decision by himself?"

"Italian satin," he answered. "And do not sass me."

Lenore looked at him with reproachful eyes, making sure it appeared as if she felt properly ashamed and wouldn't dare do such a thing again. "Sass," she blurted out. "Sass, sass, sass. I am sassing you, sir! Sass!"

"I suppose I'll have to silence that sassy mouth of yours," Erik smirked, leaning in and giving her a deep, passionate kiss.

"Thus from my lips, by yours, my sass is purged," Lenore said, slightly altering Shakespeare's words.

"Then have my lips the sass that they have took?" Erik played along.

"Sass from my lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sass again," Lenore pleaded.

* * *

Hiroshi read the last few lines and gave the authoress a sexy smirk. "Would you like to purge your lips of your profanity, cupcake?"

"No thank you, I rather like my profanity on my lips," the authoress replied, smiling happily at the immortal she had sitting next to her on a leash.

"Well you're no fun," Hiroshi grumbled.

"If you were Erik, I would gladly take you up on the offer," the authoress assured him.

There was a rather loud 'thunk' as the authoress slumped over in her chair unconscious.

"Erik's mine," Lenore hissed, brandishing a dented frying pan.

"Good job, kitten," Hiroshi commended the girl. "Now why don't you get me off this strange leash she acquired from Michael?"

"…dude, I'm not that fond of you. Jack the Ripper, masquerading as my father in my Second Life thing…"

"You can't just leave me to the mercies of the authoress!" Hiroshi protested.

"Well, if the reviewers seem to think I should free you, then I suppose I could help you," Lenore consented. "So, do you all want me to help this fiendish imp? Remember, we accept anonymous reviews."


	34. Chapter 34

To MJ MOD: Wolf spiders are everywhere in the world. They're just thought to be biggest in Australia. Actually, wolf spiders can get enormous, provided they have a food-rich environment. I'm sure the opera cellars are crawling with insects for the spiders to feed on, hence it was so huge. You said the bite isn't toxic, but I'm afraid that's not true. The wolf spider's bite is poisonous, but the poison isn't lethal to humans. However, the area of the bite will end up getting really ugly looking (I'd tell you to look up images of wolf spider bites, but the images I found were very disgusting and I felt rather sick after looking at them myself). An ulcer can develop and the flesh around the bite will die and kinda fall off. So, sucking out the venom is important. As for Lenore Serenity, she will not surrender her will to Erik (at least not yet), she's too much of a fighter for that. And as for Jack the Ripper taking notes for Satan…read on.

To LoveMe1010: Lenore is moping about the fact that she has no say in her wedding. Most girls would like to have some say in it, even if they're marrying THE most creative guy ever and he'll make this wedding perfect. She just wants him to consider her feelings and opinions on things, so she feels more like an equal partner in the relationship, really.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Hiroshi sighed. _Earth can be so boring when you're not having sex or killing people._ There was nothing worth his time on television, he'd read all the books in this hotel (it felt as if he'd read all the books in France), and he couldn't have a prostitute over before afternoon, as he found it trashy to have a bitch in the morning.

There was a knock on the door, and if it was a maid, she was in for a treat. Hiroshi rose and went to the door, not even bothering to look through the peephole and check first. He was quite surprised to see one of the bellhops, who pushed past him with a two suitcases and headed for the second bedroom.

"Uncle Jack! Awesome place you got here," a seventeen year old boy exclaimed, strutting into the suite and examining it with dark brown eyes. His black hair fell to his waist, and it was pulled back in one fat braid secured with a strip of black leather. Tight black leather pants left very little to the imagination and a white dress shirt was left unbuttoned to display a black wifebeater beneath. "It's cool you're letting me stay with you; Mom would've sent me to a military school if you didn't."

"It's no problem at all," Hiroshi replied. _How kind of you to move in unexpectedly, Master._ The bellhop returned from the second bedroom and looked expectantly at Hiroshi, who handed him a tip and sent the man on his way. As soon as the door was closed behind the bellhop, Hiroshi addressed Satan. "Men don't wear their hair like that anymore, you know."

"I know; it gets everyone's attention," Satan replied with a smirk. "It's easier to tempt people who notice you."

"So, dear 'nephew' of mine, what should I call you?"

"Kenneth. Ken or Kenny if you want," Satan said with a shrug. He never was very particular about names.

"Might I ask what brought on this little visit?"

"I'd just love to get to know 'cousin' Lenore, hear about her memories and all. And as it just so happens, I know for a fact that Erik's out shopping and she's all alone right now," Satan responded, sprawling out over the couch. "Maybe you should check up on her. After all, Michael never said anything about you staying away from her."

"That's very true, but I fail to see what's in it for me, other than a beating from Erik," Hiroshi pointed out, standing next to the sofa and looking down at the attractive teenage boy laying there.

"Just go down, ask her a few questions, maybe make her an offer on my behalf, and I'll show you just how loving of a nephew I can be," Satan stated with a very suggestive smirk.

"I might need a bit of a down payment, a little taste of my reward, to provide proper incentive," Hiroshi claimed.

Satan sat up, grabbed Hiroshi's shirt by the collar and pulled him down. Lips met and a tongue found its way into Hiroshi's mouth. He was then shoved back up and away with a chuckle from his master. "Don't be gone too long, Uncle. You wouldn't want me to get bored."

"Of course not, Kenneth," Hiroshi smiled, heading for the door.

* * *

Lenore lay under the covers, trying to read some of the Wheel of Time series without Erik. But it was excruciatingly difficult, knowing how beautiful these words could sound with his voice and not hearing that. She sighed and closed the book, setting it aside; he had said something about being interested in the story and wanting to finish it, so she could just wait until he came back. He was out picking up more food and choosing fabrics for "more appropriate garments".

As it was, she was currently wearing only her panties, as her right breast was swollen from the bite, which made wearing bras and the shirts Hiroshi had brought down very painful. (Those shirts were tailored for an excellent fit, but left no room for swelling, and Erik had almost had a fit when Lenore asked to wear one of his shirts. He claimed he preferred her in no shirt, he'd seen her breasts before, there's was no real need for a shirt if she was going to be in bed under the covers; since she was on bed rest and couldn't get out of bed to get herself any clothes, she really had no choice but to go without.)

Closing her eyes, Lenore sighed heavily. It was so quiet without Erik down here. _Why doesn't he get a TV and wire the house for cable or something? Though I have no idea what good that would do; with my luck I'd find and become interested in a scary movie and then I'd be terrified and alone in a dark creepy basement. I wonder where Cristoph is…oh shit, he's dead by now. Well, he's gotta have a replacement, so why haven't I met another rat yet?_

The bed shifted beneath her. _Why can't he just call out "Honey, I'm home" or something of that nature when he gets back instead of creeping in here and trying to scare me to death? _She opened her eyes, ready to scold Erik for his rude behavior and almost had a heart attack when she saw dark brown eyes mere inches from her own. Just as she was about to scream, a finger was pressed to her lips.

"Shush now kitten, there's nothing to be afraid of," Hiroshi said.

"What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack? I already died from heart problems once; I'd prefer not to die the same way twice," she snapped.

"I just noticed, kitten, that you don't seem to be wearing very much under those covers," Hiroshi commented, looking at her bare arms and shoulders.

_Thank God I have the covers pulled up over my chest. _"I'm wearing more than enough," she replied.

"You look cold."

"I'm fine."

"He's not taking very good care of you, leaving you alone and at least half naked," Hiroshi sighed, straddling her. "I suppose it's up to me to warm you up, hm?"

"I'm fine," Lenore repeated, narrowing her eyes in an attempt to intimidate him. "What are you doing here anyway? You weren't invited, don't you have any manners?"

"I didn't want you to be stuck down here all alone and bored," Hiroshi replied. "We should pass the time by playing a game. Would you like that?"

"Depends on what you mean by the word 'game'," Lenore responded.

"Questions and Answers should do nicely," Hiroshi continued as if she hadn't spoken. "Yes, I'll ask you a question, and you give me the most honest answer you can manage. And if you fail to answer, I get to kiss you."

_I don't really have much choice. He's on top of me, so I can't get away or shoo him to the door. There's no one to hear me scream for help, and it's not like he's asking much of me. I can answer questions, not that difficult…_ "Only a kiss," she snarled. "Nothing else. Swear to Satan that it'll only be a kiss if I don't answer."

Putting his left hand over his heart and raising his right, Hiroshi took on a look of seriousness. "I swear to Satan that if you fail to answer, I'll do nothing more than kiss you."

"Alright, I'll play. But if you ask anything that I think is too personal, Erik will hear about it."

"First question: Are you still two people?" Hiroshi inquired.

"Erik says that Lenore Wolfe is gone," Lenore answered. "I only half agree; I don't hear her voice anymore, but I have all her memories and stuff."

"How did you get her to disappear? Was it merely one particular thought or action? Or was it a long struggle that took time?"

"I don't really know. Every time I ask, Erik suggests doing something to take my mind off 'pointless thoughts'."

"Do you think Erik had a hand in her disappearance then?"

"No…I don't think so…I hope not," Lenore said.

"What do you think brought your memories of First Life back?" Hiroshi asked.

"Are you down here working for Satan?" Lenore snapped, just now catching on to the most likely reason he was asking these questions. At first, it could've been Hiroshi's concern for his daughter's soul, but now it was quite clear that was not his purpose in asking all these questions.

"Tut tut," Hiroshi scolded. "You're not the questioner." He leaned down, closing the gap between their faces to less than an inch.

"What are you doing?" Lenore hissed.

"You failed to answer my last question, so I get a kiss," he purred.

Before she could protest, his lips covered her own. His tongue pressed against her lips, asking for entrance, but she would have none of that. He slid his tongue along her lips, applying a good deal of pressure, showing her that if she didn't let him in willingly, he intended to force his way in.

_I'm not entirely defenseless, Jackass! _She brought up her hand and slapped him hard. He jerked up, touching a hand to the cheek she had assaulted. "You got your kiss, ask your next question," she growled.

"I don't know why you reacted so violently," he complained, trying to look like a little boy who had been reprimanded and didn't know why.

"You tried to stick your tongue in my mouth!"

"Yes, because we're in France and thus a French kiss would be quite appropriate," Hiroshi explained. "You can't deny that frenching is a kiss, and you never specified a particular type of kiss as being unacceptable."

"Ask your next goddamn question!"

"Watch your language there, kitten. I'm certainly not one of God's biggest fans, but even I know you shouldn't damn him. Now, as for that question: What do you think brought back your memories of First Life?" he repeated. "And if you answer this question, you can have anything you want as a reward for your cooperation."

"That's not true; I can't have the pleasure of watching you die," she mumbled darkly.

Hiroshi gave an excited little gasp. "Failure to answer, another kiss for me," he all but squealed. He yanked the blanket down to her waist, while she shrieked and demanded to know what he was doing. "Aww, poor thing, that bite looks nasty, you shouldn't let Erik be so rough," he commented on seeing the spider bite. Before she could say anything or jerk the covers back up, Hiroshi placed a kiss on her navel, adding a little lick before coming back up.

"What the fuck was that?" she yelled as her fingers scrambled to grab the blankets and cover her chest.

"You said I could kiss you, remember? You never said where," Hiroshi pointed out.

"Okay, let's stop playing this game, this is incredibly disturbing. Most of me is entirely repulsed by you, and the rest of me is having a massive coronary over the fact that you're my father and you're kissing me in distinctly non-father ways!"

"Can't stop until you answer my question," Hiroshi said in a singsong voice.

"I really have no clue what brought back my memories, okay? The first time I experienced one was when you introduced me to Erik," she informed him.

"When you had that memory, did you get the feeling that you were, in a sense, two people in one body?"

"No, I didn't get that feeling until I saw my body," Lenore replied. "Now stop this, I don't want to play anymore."

"Are you attracted to me?" Hiroshi inquired.

"Get out of this house, or I swear to God I'll beat you beyond the point of death," she threatened. _That's sick! He's a father figure to me, of course I don't feel attracted to him! The damn pervert._

"Oh, look, you've failed to answer again," Hiroshi said gleefully, grabbing the edge of the blankets and ripping them out of her hands, exposing her down to mid thigh. Squealing like a banshee and squirming for all she was worth, Lenore attempted to regain the covers, but failed miserably. "Hold still; it's only a kiss, darling," Hiroshi murmured, trying to pin her down so he could plant a kiss on a rather private area of her body.

Hiroshi was suddenly flung to the side, a dark blur pushing him off the bed and slamming him into the wall. Lenore yanked the blankets up over herself as her rescuer began to strangle Hiroshi.

* * *

"You do not touch what is mine," Erik hissed, glaring at the immortal in his grip.

"Oh, relax Erik; we were only playing a game. Right kitten?" Hiroshi said, trying to cover his discomfort with calm.

"Yes, we were," Lenore admitted. "But I told you to stop and you kept playing. Don't expect any help or sympathy from me."

"She said I could kiss her if she failed to answer a question," Hiroshi pathetically attempted to defend himself. Erik knew Lenore would never permit that. "She never said I couldn't kiss her anywhere but on the lips. It was fully legal by the rules of our game."

"I don't wish to hear your pathetic excuses, Hiroshi," Erik snarled. "Tell your beloved master to leave Lenore be, or else arrange an appointment with Michael to come and do his own dirty work, rather than sending in someone as incompetent as you."

"It's not an excuse, it's the truth," Hiroshi claimed, clawing at Erik's tightening fingers around his throat. "She said I could"-

"Silence!" Erik growled, cutting off Hiroshi's supply of air. "If you find yourself incapable of delivering that message to your master, I'll deliver it in a more…creative fashion. Make your choice." He loosened the grip on the immortal's neck.

"I'll tell him," Hiroshi said hoarsely, with enough sincerity that Erik knew the man would.

Dropping the man on the floor carelessly, Erik glowered down at him. "Now get out of my house and do not return unless I am present to chaperone your little 'games'."

Hiroshi leapt up and bolted for the door. Erik sighed; he'd have to go back out, the produce would be ruined now from being dropped to the floor when Erik heard Lenore's shrieks. And if anything had survived, ten to one Hiroshi had squashed it on his way out.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked her, going over to the bed to assess damage if the occasion should call for it.

"Yeah, I guess," Lenore replied.

"The nerve of that bastard, even daring to suggest you would allow him to kiss you," Erik muttered darkly.

"Well…" Lenore said, blushing slightly. "I did kinda say he could. I didn't know he meant it like that though."

Erik quirked an eyebrow at her. "You gave that perverted sex maniac permission to kiss you? How could you not realize he would take it to the extremes?" Erik demanded. "Did you forget you were engaged when you granted him permission?"

"No, I didn't forget," she responded, her right hand absently caressing the ring on her left finger. "But he said he was just going to ask questions and he would only kiss me if I didn't answer. It's not hard to answer questions, so I agreed."

"Obviously you found his last question very difficult to answer," Erik snapped.

"Actually, it was two," Lenore confessed, turning red.

Erik glared at her. How could she? When she was engaged to him and they were due to be married within a year? Not to mention she was supposed to love him. And here she was, letting another man (Jack the Ripper, no less!) kiss her. "And where did the first little love peck go, might I ask?"

"Um…well…I didn't answer the first question twice…"

"You mean to tell me that he placed two kisses upon your person before I returned?"

"Yeah, that'd be about right. One on the mouth, one on my stomach," she informed him, her eyes studiously avoiding his own.

"Well, did you learn a lesson from all of this?" Erik sighed.

"Always answer the question?"

"Don't play games with an imp like Hiroshi," Erik corrected. "He'll bend the rules as much as possible."

"Well, he never cheated when we played monopoly," Lenore mumbled.

"Somehow, I feel that there was very little personal gain for him in winning that game," he replied.

"Oh, there was," Lenore countered. "If I won, I got a raise in my allowance. I didn't win all the time, but it was certainly often enough for my purposes." A devious little smirk played upon her lips and Erik got the distinct impression that when she had desperately wanted some extra pocket money, she'd done a bit of cheating herself.

Erik shook his head and went to inspect what was left of the groceries. Sure enough, the majority of the produce was only fit for the rubbish bin now. After putting the rest of his purchases away and cleaning things up, Erik prepared to go out again. He rather liked this new mask he had. He'd worked on a very similar design when he'd thought Christine might marry him, but the acquisition of a nose had changed the design. When Hiroshi had returned with Lenore in her Second Life, Erik had decided to see if he could create a mask that made him look like any other man. He'd gone through several prototypes before getting it just right, but it was worth it. He'd never known how enjoyable society could be if you seemed to fit in.

Returning to the room to inform Lenore that he would be leaving once again, Erik had a thought. "Do you feel up to an outing, chérie?" he inquired of his darling little flower.

"I'd love to, but I really can't wear anything on the top half of my body and I have a feeling that would create quite a stir aboveground," Lenore replied.

"You could borrow one of my shirts, I suppose," Erik permitted.

"Oh, thank you so much," she replied sarcastically. Nevertheless, she got out of bed while Erik selected one of his shirts and a skirt of hers to match it.

* * *

Lenore stood arm-in-arm with Erik while he inspected the fruits of one stand. "No, I don't like grapefruit," she said when he reached for one.

"Did I ask if you like it?" he replied.

"I'm just making sure you're well informed."

"Well, consider the fact that the fruit might not be for you," Erik responded.

"Oh, well, buy as much as you like then." Lenore looked around, noting that Erik had purchased all the fruit and vegetables he said he needed already.

After purchasing a few grapefruits (he was extremely picky about the quality of each one), he obtained a bouquet of yellow roses, which were also not for her, before acquiring a cab and taking them out of Paris.

She didn't know where it was that they went, but the cab stopped in front of a rather large house. Erik led her to the door, ringing the bell. "Erik, where are we? Who lives here? How do you know anyone outside the Opera House?" Just then the door was opened, answering Lenore's questions with one look at the woman standing in the doorway. "Tori?"

Tori just stared at her for a minute, not that Lenore really blamed her. _After all, I'm dead._ "What the fuck?" Tori finally managed to spit out. Then her face turned dark as rage took over. "This isn't funny. I don't know who you are, but this is just cruel."

"Good day, Madam Parker. I've brought you some rather excellent grapefruits; I know how fond you are of them," Erik greeted her as if she hadn't just implied that Lenore's presence was some twisted joke.

Tori looked at him in confusion for a moment. "But you don't come out of the basement in the daytime," Tori replied.

"Can we come in or are we supposed to stand on your stoop all day?" Erik inquired.

"Well, I don't know. Who's the imposter?" Tori demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

"That's a long story," Lenore muttered.

"One that would be much better told inside," Erik added, pushing past Tori and dragging Lenore into the house after him. He took her to the living room and she began to wonder just how well acquainted he was with her brother that he knew the layout of the house.

Tori was right behind them, and she took the bag of grapefruits off to the kitchen, muttering about rude opera ghosts. Erik settled himself on the couch, but Lenore walked around the room, looking at the pictures on the walls.

_Mark and Tori had two kids…God, time sure flies when you're living your Second Life. Their daughter looks about my age…well, my new age anyway…the boy's only a few years younger. Wow, I wonder if John and Kathleen have any kids._

Lenore dropped down onto the couch next to Erik, noticing the cat that had curled up in his lap while she was perusing the walls. She reached over to pet it and it hissed at her. "Why don't cats ever like me?" she mumbled.

"You're competition," Erik explained. "You're very much like a cat, chérie. You expect everyone's undivided attention, no matter what else may be going on. You also tend to be aloof. In essence, you're a humanoid cat. You've come into Palidan's territory and he finds you a threat. I'd consider it a compliment, personally. Cats very rarely decide a human is a rival."

Lenore watched Erik stroke Palidan's glossy coat and realized that she was actually slightly jealous of the attention the cat was receiving. _You just watch yourself, cat. That's my immortal, and all snuggling rights and caresses are mine!_

"Do you want anything?" Tori called out. "Tea? Hot chocolate?"

"Oh, I'd love"- Lenore began.

"We won't be staying long," Erik interrupted.

"Never mind," Lenore sighed.

Tori came back in and sat down in a chair, glaring at Lenore. "Alright, start explaining," she commanded.

An hour of interrogations and answers later, Tori was finally satisfied Lenore was who she claimed to be. "So your daughter Olivia is going out with this guy who's covered in tattoos and body piercing?" Lenore gasped. "Dear God, I doubt she's still a virgin."

"Well, are you still a virgin?" Tori replied.

"Um…this body is," Lenore said, a blush creeping over her face.

"I'll remedy that soon enough," Erik smirked.

"Erik! You can't say that in front of Tori," Lenore hissed, her blush intensifying. "Anyway, Tori, Erik and I are getting married. We haven't set the date yet, but…" Lenore trailed off.

"Oh, let me see the engagement ring," Tori demanded. Lenore held out her left hand and Tori took hold of it, examining the ring. "Whoa, this is gorgeous! He'll be paying this rock off for years."

"It's already paid for," Erik informed her.

"He spent forty thousand on it," Lenore whispered.

"Holy crap! Why the hell isn't he paying our mortgage then? You know, help out the wife's family," Tori suggested.

"I believe it's time we were going," Erik said casually, deftly removing the sleeping Palidan and standing up.

"I didn't know you were marrying Scrooge," Tori mumbled as the women rose.

"Neither did I," Lenore remarked. "It's quite the achievement though, very few people manage to marry a Charles Dickens character."

* * *

"Lucinda! Put your father's electric razor down!" Kathleen shouted to her four year old daughter. Her arms were full of clean towels that she was trying to put away, and she could see the little dark-haired devil trying to attack one of the cats with the razor. Not that the kid would ever reach the cat; the cord was too short.

Having finally gotten the towels in the linen closet, Kathleen rushed over, took the razor from Lucinda's hands, and switched it off. Then she put it up out of reach, wishing John had remembered to put it up that morning himself. He usually did, but every now and then he forgot. And Lucinda always capitalized on those occasions.

The doorbell rang, and Lucinda bolted for it. Running after her, Kathleen began to wonder why she and John had gone and had six kids. At ages fifteen, twelve, eight, six, and four, she had her hands full with the lot of them. Lucinda reached the door first and yanked it open.

"Uncle Ewik!" Lucinda squealed, jumping into his arms.

"How do you know my family so well?" the young woman with him inquired.

_She looks just like Lenore…that's not possible, is it?_

"I spend every Christmas with them," Erik told his companion. "Isn't that right, Lucinda?"

"Yes. He got me the pwetty dollhouse," Lucinda giggled.

"Kathleen! It's great to see you again," the woman said, coming in and hugging Kathleen tightly.

"Um, I'm sorry, I don't think I know you," Kathleen said politely, squirming out of the woman's grip.

"It's me, Lenore. Lenore Parker," the woman claimed.

"Girl, that's a horrible thing to say," Kathleen scolded. It had been hard enough on her when Lenore had died so suddenly. It wasn't fair at all; Lenore had come through that horrendous accident and then died of a rare heart disease.

"She's telling the truth," Erik stated casually.

"Who's she?" Lucinda asked Erik, twisting his cravat in her tiny hands.

"That's Aunt Lenore," Erik told the child.

Kathleen just stood there, her mouth all but hanging open. _It's not possible. I mean, she's almost a carbon copy in looks, but…it's not the right voice, and if it really is Lenore, she'd be around forty by now. And definitely in a bad state of decay._

As was usual, the cats clustered around Erik's ankles, purring and mewing to be picked up, trying their absolute best to look as though they were starved for attention. When Lenore went to pet them, they slipped out from under her hands and disdainfully turned their tails to her.

"Lucinda, could you give these roses to your mother for me?" Erik asked the child, handing her the bouquet of yellow roses in his hand and setting the girl on the floor.

"Mommy, mommy, look what Ewik bwought you!" Lucinda squealed, hurrying over to her mother with the flowers. Kathleen was still staring at Lenore in shock. Lucinda tugged her mother's pant leg, "Mommy, look!" the girl demanded.

After the fifth attempt, the child finally managed to get her mother's attention. Kathleen numbly took the flowers, mechanically thanking Erik for the nice gesture. She invited them both in, despite the fact that they were already standing inside the house, and Erik led Lenore to the living room and took a seat on the sofa, the cats following him like a pack of groupies.

Kathleen left them there to put the roses in some water. Setting the vase on the kitchen table, it occurred to her to offer them drinks. "Would you like anything to drink? I've got Pepsi, Iced Tea, Milk, Water…" she trailed off, trying to remember what beverages the kids hadn't finished off that morning.

"Oh, I'd like a"- Lenore began to say.

"We won't be long," Erik interrupted Lenore.

"You know, I'm gonna die of thirst, and then you'll be sorry," Lenore snapped at Erik. "And why do these cats have to take up the whole sofa? There's no room left for me."

Kathleen entered the living room just in time to see Lenore scoop Nightmare off of Erik's lap. Nightmare was the alpha female of the pack, and would have none of this. Hissing, biting, and clawing for all she was worth, Nightmare attempted to get loose of Lenore. But Lenore managed to hang on to the wild cat, plopping herself down in Erik's lap and restraining the cat that struggled to be free of her grip.

"I'm sitting on his lap," Lenore informed the cat harshly. "If you don't want to sit on me, fine, but you're not evicting me from this spot. Got it?" Erik stroked Nightmare gently, and the cat, though obviously not pleased with Lenore's presence, settled down and purred appreciatively for Erik.

Kathleen spent the next half hour listening to their story and nodding, occasionally interrupting with a question or two. When they finally finished, she sat back and sighed. "Damn, that'd make a hell of a plot for a story," she said.

"I wanna heaw it again," Lucinda proclaimed, sitting on the floor with her coloring book and crayons.

"Lucinda, why don't you take Aunt Lenore upstairs to see your dollhouse?" Kathleen suggested.

"I'll lose my spot," Lenore moaned.

"Come on, you have to see it, it's pwetty," Lucinda insisted, grabbing Lenore's hand and trying to tug her up off of Erik's lap.

"Go on, chérie, I'll still be here for your lounging pleasure when you return," Erik promised her.

"Better be," she mumbled, standing up and letting the little girl lead her upstairs.

"Erik, are you sure you know what you're doing?" Kathleen inquired the moment the pair were out of earshot. He merely quirked an eyebrow at her, stroking Nightmare, who had curled up in his lap the moment Lenore's backside cleared his legs. "I mean, she seems like herself, but…she's different at the same time. You can't just see only the part of her you want to. You've got to acknowledge that other part of her, and make sure that you love it as much as you love the rest of her. Because if you don't, this relationship's got a one-way ticket to destruction."

"Of course I acknowledge both parts of her," Erik said defensively.

"But do you love that other part?"

There was a moment of near-silence, the only sound being that of the cats purring. "I find your question impertinent," Erik finally said, moving Nightmare off of his lap and standing up. "I'm afraid we'll have to be leaving now, Madam Parker."

Erik went to the foot of the stairs and called for Lenore. She was there in moments, Lucinda on her heels. "But Erik, we can't leave! I'm Mademoiselle Ariel Johnson, and I just sat down for tea!" Lenore complained.

"You can come back and play with Lucinda another day," Erik said, turning to Kathleen, who was glaring at him for not answering her question. "Perhaps we should get our little darlings together regularly for play dates."

"Aunt Lenowe is playing hide-and-seek, Uncle Ewik," Lucinda crowed from the top of the steps. Lenore had disappeared, it seemed. "I'll play too. Count to fifty thousand!"

"I don't have time to play games," he muttered under his breath as Lucinda rushed off to hide herself. "One, two, fifty thousand." Bounding up the stairs, he entered the first room on his right and thoroughly inspected it before taking the next room. Kathleen followed, an amused spectator and glad she wasn't the one who had to seek out the kids for once.

Erik found Lucinda first, hiding under Damien's bed. "Yay!" Lucinda squealed when she was found. "You'we betta than Mommy. Now let's find Aunt Lenowe."

_Erik's not better than me, he's just motivated to find Lenore. I like playing hide-and-seek because it gives me a good five minutes of quiet to get some work done before I go pull you out of hiding to start all over again._

The next room was the bathroom, and after two thorough inspections, Erik went on to the next room. Kathleen, still in the hallway, caught movement out of the corner of her eye, but didn't turn her head in that direction. Lenore was creeping over to the bathroom from the left side of the hall. Lenore slipped into the bathroom a moment before Erik finished with the room they were currently in.

When he finished with the hallway, Erik's face was dark with annoyance. "Damn bitch," he snarled.

"What's that mean, Uncle Ewik?" Lucinda asked.

_Did you have to swear in front of my four-year-old daughter?_

"Well the first word is about being condemned, you'll have to have your mother explain that one to you. And the second word means a female dog," Erik explained. "But it's not a very nice thing to say, and you should never repeat it."

"But you just said it," Lucinda pointed out.

"Yes, and for that, I have to go to bed without any supper," Erik said seriously. "I've been very naughty, and I must be punished." An amused grin touched his features. "I might even get a spanking from Aunt Lenore for my bad behavior."

"Alright, let's keep looking for her," Kathleen said before the conversation turned any further in a direction she didn't want it take in front of Lucinda.

"Well, she's not downstairs," Erik mused.

"How do you know she didn't creep down while you were in another room?" Kathleen countered.

"Your fifth step down creaks, no matter how lightly one treads. I would have heard it if she'd gone down," Erik stated. "So, she must be up here somewhere."

They began the search of the rooms again, and Kathleen waited anxiously through the first two rooms to see Lenore go scurrying back to the other side of the hallway. But she never did. They came to the bathroom and Erik checked in the tub before opening the linen closet. Nothing seemed amiss to Kathleen.

Erik smirked and gestured to the front row of towels, which Kathleen now realized were in a bit of disorder. "Madam Parker, is that a spider in your closet?" Erik said, all but chuckling. "It's almost as large as the one that bit Lenore the other day."

A shriek sounded from behind the towels, which exploded out of the closet onto Erik as Lenore leapt from the shelf holding the towels. _How did she manage to fit back there? Not to mention that the shelf held her weight. I mean, she's not fat, but she's at least around one hundred pounds. At least I know this shelf is sturdy now._

"KILL IT!" Lenore screeched, already at the top of the stairs in her quest to get as far from the spider as possible.

"I'm sorry about the mess I caused," Erik apologized, picking up the towels and putting them in Kathleen's arms as he went to follow Lenore.

"Yay! We'we playing again!" Lucinda proclaimed. "Aunt Lenowe's alweady hidden."

Erik let out an aggravated sigh. "She's hiding from a non-existent spider," he muttered. "Perhaps we should let the spider do the seeking."

"I'll be a spida fow Halloween!" Lucinda decided. "She's downstaiws, let's go, this spida needs help." The girl grabbed Erik's hand and tugged him to the stairs eagerly.

* * *

Lenore grinned to herself. It was fun to play hide-and-seek. She'd never really played any games like this as a child with Hiroshi (he really hadn't played anything with her until she was old enough to play the more challenging games), so it'd been forever since she'd had simple fun like this. _This is the perfect hiding spot._

She was currently curled up inside the dryer, thankful that the door didn't have a window on it. _Erik probably won't think of looking for me in here. Who'd think I could fit into a dryer? _Twenty minutes later, she was suffering severe muscle pain from this awkward position and wishing that she hadn't chosen such a small space to begin with.

Just as she was about to get out and locate another hiding spot, the door swung open and Lucinda peered in, squealing excitedly when she saw Lenore's face. "We found you!" the girl proclaimed. "Uncle Ewik's the bestest at this game!"

"It took forever for you to find me," Lenore whined.

"I kept telling Lucinda we should check the basement, but she wanted to check the first two floors over twice before we tried down here," Erik replied.

"Erik…I think I'm stuck," Lenore stated when she couldn't seem to wriggle out of the dryer.

Erik squatted down so that his eyes were level with hers. A malicious grin touched his lips. "Now what would you do if I left you here like this?" he inquired.

"I'll have Kathleen call the fire department or someone to get me out and then stay here with Lucinda, hating you for the rest of my life," Lenore replied.

"Well, if that's all…" Erik trailed off. "I'd like my shirt back before I go, if you please."

"Jerk!" Lenore hissed. "Get me out or else I'm calling off the wedding."

"You know, if I leave you here until the wedding day, I'll know just where to find you," Erik mused.

"Oh, we'we playing wedding?" Lucinda asked.

"In about six months," Erik answered. "Would you like to be the flower girl?"

"I wanna be the bwide!"

"How sweet of you," Erik chuckled. "I'm sure you'd make a wonderful wife for me, but you're not old enough, darling."

"Okay. But next time we play wedding, I get to be the bwide," Lucinda declared.

"If you like," Erik said. "Now, could you do me a favor and get me a glass of water?" Lucinda scurried off to do his bidding.

"What's the water for?" Lenore asked.

"Getting rid of Lucinda for a moment," Erik replied. "Now, let's see…"

* * *

"Next time you wish to have a little game of cat and mouse, do give me fair warning," Erik requested as they took a cab back to the Opera House.

"I don't suppose I'll ever get to play the cat," Lenore sighed.

"If I was the mouse, the cat would be searching forever," Erik pointed out.

"So…it was nice to see Kathleen and Tori. Are we going to visit Mom tomorrow?" Lenore asked him.

"That remains to be seen," Erik sighed. He really didn't want to visit Madam Parker. The woman was annoying and pathetic.

"Come on, we've seen everyone else now. It's not fair for her to be the only one not to know," Lenore complained.

Erik closed his eyes and pictured the visit. It would be very unpleasant. They'd be lucky to get out of that house in two hours. _I really don't want to visit that shrew, she's always so rude, blaming me for Lenore's death._

"You're not scared of my Mom, are you?" Lenore taunted.

"No; I find her annoying and if she wasn't related to you, I would take great pleasure in ending her miserable existence," Erik informed Lenore honestly.

Lenore smacked his arm and glared at him. "That was mean."

Erik merely shrugged. He didn't care if she didn't approve of that; she hadn't spent twenty one years being blamed for a death she had nothing to do with and had cut her deeply.

"Well, you can certainly be dressed up, but you can't be taken out," Lenore muttered.

"That's your opinion."

"And it's the only one that matters."

"I beg to differ, ma petite," Erik argued.

"You're begging me? How flattering," she responded with a mischievous grin.

"You take things far too literally," Erik snapped. He wasn't begging! The very idea was preposterous!

"I know. If I didn't take things so literally, I wouldn't have gotten into that game with Hiroshi." There was a brief silence. "Maybe we should go visit him," she giggled. "He's a father to me, after all, and we've visited everyone but Mom today."

"Absolutely not!" Erik growled.

"Why not? Did you get jealous when you saw him trying to kiss me?" she asked with a devious grin on her face.

"Jealous? Of that moronic bastard?" Erik scoffed.

"Oh, well, alright then, you won't mind if I talk about it. You know, he kisses by the book," Lenore commented casually.

"That's a ridiculous phrase! What book is it that Romeo, and apparently Hiroshi, kiss by? What book did they read that told them how to kiss in such a fashion?" Erik grumbled irritably.

"If I knew, I'd tell the world so that all men could be such good kissers."

"Perhaps you'd care to be dropped off outside his hotel?" Erik snarled grumpily.

"If you can't admit that you're jealous, then drop me off there and I'll let him have his way with me," Lenore shot back.

"Driver, change of course. We're dropping the mademoiselle off at the Hotel Scribe first," Erik called out.

Lenore produced a few odd sounds, but no actual words. When the cab stopped at the hotel, Lenore stared at him with her mouth hanging open for a moment before firmly closing it, glaring at him and sliding out of the cab. The moment her feet hit the pavement, she turned back and threw her engagement ring onto the seat next to him.

"Keep it until you can tell me that you were jealous," she hissed before slamming the door shut and storming into the hotel.

* * *

"Dude, this chapter sucked for me," Lenore griped.

"That's what you get for hitting me with a frying pan," the authoress snapped, giving Lenore a dark glare.

There were a few muffled sounds coming from the floor next to the authoress.

"Honestly, Jack, you know I can't understand a word you say when you have the muzzle on," the authoress sighed.

"Like he had any choice in the matter," Lenore muttered.

"You shush! Or the next chapter will go badly for you!" the authoress threatened. "Please review, everyone, I do so love hearing from you all."


	35. Chapter 35

Lady Taevyn: Of course I'm evil. (chuckles) I have assassin squirrels watching you as you read this…be afraid…

Lethia: Make Erik admit he's jealous? True, I'm the all-powerful authoress, but do you think Erik would ever admit jealousy?

MJ MOD: Lenore played that game with Hiroshi cuz she didn't much choice really. And she shouldn't give him any answers about Second Life, I agree. But Lenore isn't exactly viewing it from our perspective, seeing as how she's in the story and we're outside. Lucinda wanted to shave the cat cuz I've decided that's going to be a thing with small children and cats in this story. (Not that I foresee any more episodes with small children and cats, but you never know…)

Artzee: I quite agree that it was disturbing of Jack to try taking advantage of a girl he watched grow up. (follows Artzee's example and whacks Jack with a rolled up newspaper)

Iluvmyphantom: I'm glad Hiroshi cracks you up. And as to it being fun to see Erik admit jealousy…that confession remains to be seen. Erik's not one to admit something like that easily.

Shariena: I'm glad there's someone else out there who would've thrown the ring at Erik and stormed off angrily when he couldn't say he was jealous. And though I'm sure we'd all like to see Erik and Lenore doing something "intimate" wink wink, that's not happening in this chapter. Maybe next chapter, we'll see.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Satan flipped through the channels, bored to death. True, he'd gotten some good answers to his questions, and he'd rewarded Hiroshi with sinful activities in the bedroom, but there was nothing to do while he waited for another chance to have Hiroshi sneak back down and ask Lenore more questions. He was considering going out to tempt a few mortals when the door swung open and Lenore stormed into the room angrily.

_I'll have to thank Serendipity for this._ "Lenore, how nice to"- he started to say. She ignored him entirely, stomping into the second bedroom that he'd taken for himself, slamming the door behind her. She then released a shrill angry scream. This was followed by a severe string of profanities and the sound of several of his gothic decorations being thrown about and broken.

"What's all that racket?" Hiroshi griped, coming out of his bedroom.

"Cousin Lenore seems to be a bit upset over something, Uncle," Satan chuckled.

Hiroshi sighed and went over to the second bedroom, opening the door. "Kitten, what's"-

"GET OUT! I HATE MEN!" Lenore yelled, throwing Satan's favorite vase at Hiroshi, who didn't duck in time and took it straight to the face.

"That was only worth about a billion dollars," Satan said morosely as Hiroshi shut the door before anything else could be launched at him.

A knock sounded on the door, and Hiroshi went over to answer it, dusting off bits of porcelain. He looked through the peephole first, and began to laugh hysterically when he saw who it was.

"Erik's come to fetch his kitten," Hiroshi explained between fits of laughter.

"Oh, what a shame no one's here," Satan smiled as Hiroshi made sure the lock was secure. Moments later, the door was assaulted by Erik's fist as he shouted for Hiroshi to "open the fucking door or suffer the worst beating of his life".

Lenore came storming out of the room with another vase in hand, this one full of black roses. Shoving Hiroshi aside, she unlocked the door, wrenched it open and threw the vase at Erik. "I THOUGHT YOU WERE LEAVING ME HERE! CAN'T ADMIT YOU'RE BLOODY JEALOUS!" she shouted, slamming the door in his face.

"And that vase was only about a few hundred million," Satan remarked. She seemed to be destroying everything that was expensive or one of his favorites.

As an afterthought, Lenore yanked the door back open and threw Hiroshi out into the hall with Erik, slamming the door and locking it. "AND STAY OUT!"

Satan chuckled gleefully at this spectacular opportunity. It seemed Serendipity was working overtime today. "So it's just the two of us now," he said, finally catching Lenore's attention.

"Oh, fuck off!" she snarled. "Get out, now! Or I'll find another vase," she threatened.

"But I can't. If I leave, one of those two will push their way in," Satan pointed out.

"Then jump out the window. Use floo powder and exit by the fireplace. Open a Gateway and Travel somewhere else. I don't care how you do it, so long as you leave," Lenore snapped.

Satan considered staying put, despite her anger (which he might be able to use in his favor), but he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with Michael today. It was a hard decision to make. "I think you need a shot of vodka," Satan commented. "Would you like to go to Russia?"

"No!" she snapped. Then a devious gleam appeared in her eyes. "Send those two idiots in the hall to Russia. The northern parts where it's insanely cold."

"What do I get out of it?" Satan inquired, examining his fingernails.

"You get spared a vase in your face," she responded.

"I'm afraid that's very little incentive."

Lenore headed for the kitchenette, then returned moments later, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and producing a large sharp knife. "Does this help?" she snarled, pressing the knife against his side and breaking the skin to make a drop of black blood ooze out.

"Immensely," Satan remarked. No one had dared to make him bleed since Michael cast him out of Heaven. He snapped his fingers, using his demonic powers with a smirk. This pet was an interesting one. "They're gone now."

Shuffling to the door and dragging him along without relieving the pressure of the blade on his skin, she peered through the peephole and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the hall was empty. Then she unlocked the door, flung it open, and shoved him out into the hallway.

"Ungrateful little wench," Satan snarled, snapping his fingers with the intent of popping back into the room. It failed, so he tried again, but found himself left in the hallway outside the door. "Damn you, Michael."

* * *

Lenore smiled proudly; she'd gotten rid of two immortals and the devil in less than ten minutes. The TV channel suddenly flickered, and then Michael appeared on the screen.

"Spectacular job, pumpkin," he complimented her, climbing out of the TV. "God's very proud of you."

Lenore blushed; it was nice to think that God approved and was pleased with what she'd done. "Thank you," she whispered, sitting down on the couch.

"There's no need to thank me; you're the one who got rid of them." Michael sat beside her, looking horribly out of place in his red tunic with a sword on his hip. "Would you care for a drink to celebrate?"

"Isn't alcohol bad?" Lenore said tentatively. "I thought God didn't want people to drink it."

"Nonsense, there's nothing wrong with drinking alcohol. It's drinking just for the purpose of getting drunk that God's against. But a glass of wine every evening or a brandy now and then is fine. Jesus wouldn't have turned water into wine if God didn't accept alcohol," Michael informed her. Michael's hands suddenly held two goblets and he offered her one.

Feeling it would be impolite and an insult to God to refuse, she took the cup from him. "What is it?"

"Gin and tonic," Michael said, taking a sip.

"Oh…great," Lenore replied unenthusiastically, taking a sip. She nearly spat the stuff back out. It was dreadful. _How can he drink this? Don't angels have taste buds?_

"Now, we're thinking of relocating you, to make it harder for Lucifer to find you," Michael told her. "Is there any place in particular you'd like to go?"

"Um, I don't know," she stammered. Erik was going to get back to France, and she wanted him to be able to find her so he could apologize and admit he was jealous. But he would be furious with her for having him sent to Russia like that.

* * *

"Where are we?" Hiroshi pondered aloud while shivering and trying to keep himself warm.

"Somewhere near Archangel, Russia, if I'm not mistaken," Erik snarled. "Your beloved master must have wanted to have Lenore all to himself."

"But why do we have to be in those frozen wasteland?" Hiroshi complained.

"Ask Satan," Erik snapped. The temperature was actually above freezing, so there was no reason for Hiroshi to complain as bitterly as he had.

"Well as soon as we get to Archangel, I'll get us on a plane back to Paris," Hiroshi claimed. "Now which direction do we go?"

"South," Erik said as he began walking.

"Why south? What if Archangel is east or west?"

"South, because if we miss Archangel, at least the temperature will get warmer as we go."

* * *

"He's gonna be so mad at me," Lenore repeated for the twentieth time.

"Don't fret over it," the archangel lounging in a chair said. His brown hair was spiked, and his brown eyes studied the plants decorating the room. "He can't find you so long as I'm with you."

"And that's the worst of it. He'll hunt the globe for me," Lenore told Uriel for the twentieth time.

"Well, we've got loads of time, that'll take years," Uriel said brightly.

"So I'm supposed to spend these years doing what? Pretending to be your wife and devoting myself to God?"

"Well, we are here under the guise of newlyweds," Uriel reminded her. 'Here' was Kauai, in a Nihi Kai Villa. "And you don't have to devote yourself to God. But it would be a particularly nice gesture, since He's going to such pains to keep you safe from Satan."

"Uriel…the Angel of Repentance, right?" Lenore said. She was drawing that from Wolfe's theology knowledge.

"Yes, and the Angel of Music, Angel of Poetry, and Angel of Prophecy," he informed her. "I'll sing for you, or write you poetry to the pass the time, if you wish."

"No singing, I've got my own Angel of Music," she replied.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in her listening to Uriel spout poetry as it came into his mind. He certainly had a nice voice, and it surely wasn't objectionable. After a light dinner, they went walking through the tropical gardens down to the beach. Uriel pointed out every plant he saw, telling her what it was and it's purpose. He also did this with any animal they saw.

"You really like nature, don't you?" Lenore commented as they strolled arm in arm.

"One of my duties is to assist in the communication with nature," Uriel explained. "Throughout nature, there's only one animal that intrigues me."

"And what animal is that?"

"Man. I can't seem to figure out man's purpose," Uriel almost pouted. "I know it's not for me to know, that's God's department, but still…" They stopped on the beach, sitting down to watch the sunset. Uriel sat behind her with his arms around her to keep her from getting cold. "It's the little things like this that make you realize what a masterpiece God created," Uriel sighed. "That's a thing of beauty that will last till the end of time."

"It is nice," Lenore agreed, snuggling into his embrace as she was feeling a bit chilly with the breeze coming off the sea.

"You wish you were sharing this with him, don't you?" Uriel whispered.

"Yes," she admitted.

"It's not fair for you. He pulled you into this whole divine mess," Uriel muttered. "If he'd just left you alone…"

"I'd be sitting in Heaven right now," she finished the sentence for him. "Cuz I wouldn't have been given Second Life."

"Yes, that's true," Uriel granted. "And then I wouldn't be able to tell you about plants and animals, or recite poetry for you, or share this beautiful sunset with you."

"Yeah," Lenore murmured, feeling sleepy.

* * *

Uriel carried her back to the Villa they shared and gently laid her in the bed. Passing a hand over her body, her clothes changed from a large baggy shirt and long flowing skirt to a white nightgown. He pulled the blankets up to her shoulders and placed a kiss on her forehead before going out to the living room to see if he couldn't get some prophecies delivered and songs and poems written.

_That mortal has a beautiful soul,_ Uriel thought hours later, taking a break from his duties. _If it's properly directed to the Light, she'll be one of God's most powerful instruments in history. I can't let Satan or his little Circle find her. They'll cover her in darkness and use her potential to devastate the world. I wonder…has Second Life made her soul so powerful? Taking the strength she possessed before death and adding new life to it could make an extreme difference. Perhaps we should investigate this business of Second Life…

* * *

_

Erik crumpled the parchment in his fist. Two days spent in returning to Paris to find Lenore missing. Releasing his death grip on the paper, he slowly smoothed it out and read it again, trying to see if there was any hint or clue he might have missed.

Erik,

I'm going away for awhile. Kinda like a vacation. Michael said I can't tell you where I'm going, sorry. I'll try to write and have Michael deliver the letters. I don't know when I'll be back.

Love, Lenore.

"Where is she?" Erik hissed.

"I don't know," Satan snapped.

"You're the devil, for Christ's sake, you're supposed to be able to find anyone you want!" Erik snarled.

"She must have an archangel watching over her personally. If he gets more than a hundred feet away from her, I'll sense her, but it seems they're being extremely careful," Satan replied. "And I don't do anything for Christ's sake. Never did like the boy."

Erik grabbed Satan by the throat and began choking the bastard. He didn't want to hear that she couldn't be found. That was bullshit in Erik's opinion.

"Erik, you're not helping the situation," Hiroshi said softly. "We have to stop to think. Where would Lenore go?"

Erik kept his grip on the Prince of Darkness' throat while thinking about any place Lenore may have indicated a desire to visit. If only he'd thought of discussing the honeymoon with her. But he'd already planned to take her down the Rhine, so he'd never mentioned it.

"She doesn't like the cold," Erik finally said. The only thought that kept coming back to him was that she wouldn't want to go any place like Antarctica or Russia.

"Then we should start searching around the Equator," Hiroshi reasoned. "Oh, for the love of Hell, put Master down."

"Why? It's not like I'm killing him," Erik replied. "So where do we begin searching around the equator? Africa?"

"No, she hates the outdoors. She refuses to sleep where bugs can eat her alive, or there might be a plethora of dangerous snakes and spiders," Hiroshi dismissed Africa. "I know she was thinking about writing in book in Italy, so I suppose I'll start there. You should try vacation areas around America. Jamaica, Florida, California, Hawaii…that sort of place."

"You take the east coast, I'll take the west," Erik ordered Satan, making sure to get a nod before he released the devil.

* * *

Lenore sighed. They'd been in Kauai for a month now. Every day went the same. Watching TV or listening to poetry, then a walk on the beach at sunset. She'd written Erik, and asked Michael to deliver the letters, but she never got any replies.

"Hey, Uriel, why don't we go to the luau tonight?" Lenore suggested, looking out the window at the beautiful gardens.

"Sure, that sounds like fun," Uriel agreed.

Every Saturday night, the Nihi Kai resort held a luau for the tourists, but they'd never attended before. But Lenore wanted to break up the monotonous life she was caught in at the moment.

A few hours later, she was dressed in a blue Hawaiian print dress and walking to the luau with Uriel on her arm. (He never let her get more than fifty feet away from him.) She managed to talk Uriel into dancing with her, despite his claims that he was absolutely horrendous, he wasn't the Angel of Rhythm or Dance, and so if he stepped on her toes she'd have to bear with it.

Mostly they played love ballads from the mainland, when they weren't playing Hawaiian music. It made for a lot of close dancing with Uriel, but Lenore didn't mind all that much. He was rather attractive and they'd been living together for a month, so she wasn't shy about being close to him.

When Faith Hill's "Breathe" came on, Uriel stepped closer as they slid into the rhythm of the song. Lenore began to sing along softly, but other couples around them heard and slowly conversation began to die down so that her voice carried throughout the room.

Caught up in the touch,

A slow and steady rush.

Baby, isn't that the way that love's supposed to be?

I can feel you breathe. Just breathe.

I can feel the magic floating in the air.

Being with you gets me that way.

Just as the song ended, Lenore stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to Uriel's. She'd been wondering for quite some time what it would be like to kiss an archangel.

* * *

Erik heard her voice, that voice he had trained to perfection, floating over the heads of the tourists. Perhaps she'd taken a position as a singer here in this resort. He made his way forward, trying to locate her. Just as the song ended, he saw her.

Lenore was standing on her tiptoes, kissing the man she had been dancing with. He had spiky brown hair and chocolate brown eyes; a very attractive looking man. Then Erik caught sight of the two golden bands on Lenore's left ring finger.

_She couldn't have married the archangel…but whoever said that man was an archangel? What if the archangel's watching over her from somewhere close by and she's fallen in love with that man and married him? But in the course of a month? Unless…they could have erased her memory, or made her think she loved this man enough to marry him before I could find her._

Erik was about to turn and leave to go brood over things somewhere when the kiss was ended and the man caught sight of him. Eyes widening slightly before narrowing, the man started leading Lenore towards one of the exits. _So it is the archangel. How interesting._

Following them as quickly as he could, Erik had almost caught up with them when they got outside. The archangel managed to keep enough distance between them that Erik couldn't grab Lenore's arm. They were in a deserted grove when Erik had had enough of the chase.

"Lenore!" he called sharply, making sure to get her attention.

The archangel threw her forward a few feet and whirled to face Erik, standing between them.

"Uriel, what are you doing?" she inquired.

"I've been told by Michael to keep you safe from the Condemned Circle, and he happens to be a member of that group," Uriel replied.

"Was it in the job description to fall in love with her?" Erik snapped.

"My relations with the woman are none of your business, Keeran," Uriel hissed. (Of course he'd know Erik by the name given to Erik by the Circle.) It seemed Uriel was truly angered by Erik's words, for his wings sprouted from his back, stretching out to their full span. "You are on dangerous ground, immortal."

"It is you who is in the precarious position, Uriel," Erik snarled. "The woman is mine, and I do not suffer fools who dare to touch what is mine."

"Mortals belong to no one but themselves," Uriel argued. "This girl deserves a chance to live her life in the light, not shut away in darkness with a creature such as you."

"I thought the decision was hers to make," Erik responded. "Or has God revoked humans' free will?"

"God will not see Lenore used to devastate the world for your master," Uriel spat.

"I have no master other than myself," Erik coldly informed the archangel.

"Guys, this might not be the best place to go all good-archangel-battling-evil-immortal," Lenore tried to point out. "I mean, far be it from me to stop this little argument, but maybe we should have it in private."

"Who cares where this little tête-à-tête takes place?" Satan's dark voice said as he appeared about twenty feet behind Lenore.

"I believe I told you to leave the girl alone, Lucifer," Michael snapped, appearing between Lenore and Satan.

"I'm gonna die," Lenore mumbled.

"Nonsense. If you were going to die, Sariel would be here," Uriel informed Lenore.

"Yes, Sariel always shows up when I murder nice little Christians," Hiroshi said, appearing to the left of Lenore.

"You shouldn't be destroying mortals, haven't you latched on to that idea yet?" another archangel inquired as he suddenly poofed into the human realm in between Lenore and Hiroshi.

"Oh Remiel, you just don't understand," Hiroshi sighed. "Please don't stand in my way of reaching my adopted daughter, I rather wouldn't like having to hurt you."

"You're certainly confident for being outnumbered," a woman's voice chuckled as she came into being on Lenore's other side, leaving Lenore trapped in a circle of Archangels. "Oh, rats, not again! I hate it when He makes me a woman."

"I don't mean to interrupt or anything, but you four are smothering me with those feathery wings of yours," Lenore complained. All four archangels had their wings out, and, being closed in a tight circle around Lenore, their wings were in constant contact with various parts of her. "Especially you, Gabriel." Gabriel had one hundred and forty pairs of wings, and Erik failed to logically understand how Gabriel managed to have an inch of skin not sprouting a wing.

"Lenore," Erik said, "I trust you know where your heart truly lies."

"It lies in my body, and is beating rather fast because I'm feeling somewhat intimidated by the awesome holiness of four archangels who are suffocating me with their wings," Lenore replied. "Oh, you probably didn't mean it that way, did you?"

* * *

Lenore had no idea what to do. Here she was, in the company of four archangels, two condemned immortals, and Beelzebub. How could she choose one side over the other? To go with Erik would be like turning her back on God. But to go with the archangels would be turning her back on Erik.

"Lenore, you don't want to side with archangels," Hiroshi scoffed. "They don't care about how the decision will affect you. All they care about is how your decision affects God."

"You don't want to side with the demons," Remiel countered. "All they care about is how they can use you for their dark purposes."

"Gee, this is really helping," Lenore muttered under her breath.

"Mon amour, you shouldn't listen to either of them. I know you, as no one else ever can. I have never lied to you, or given you reason to doubt me. I would never let you fall into darkness, nor will I keep you from light," Erik's mellifluous voice purred, sounding in her ears. She knew that he was using his extraordinary Ventriloquism skills to ascertain that no one else heard him. "Chérie, you may be deceived if you trust too much, but you will live in torment if you don't trust enough." He extended his hand to her, unfurling those long, elegant fingers so sensually that Lenore was flooded with hot desire instantly.

"Shameless tempter," Gabriel accused Erik. "Don't listen to him, girl, he's toying with your affections."

"Do not speak of what you do not know," Erik hissed at the archangel.

"I know that God will not see her bound in darkness with your kind," Gabriel snarled.

"The decision is Lenore's to make, not God's," Erik shot back.

"Don't tell me God's finally decided to strip humans of Free Will and govern their actions," Hiroshi added.

"Of course not," Gabriel huffed. "But He does guide the mortals that need it."

"If that's what you like to call it," Satan chuckled. "Yes, He 'guides' them in the direction he wants them to go, no matter what they may want for themselves."

"I'm sensing a lot of hostility here," Lenore commented. "Maybe we should talk about this over tea and scones." Not that anyone would listen to her; they all seemed to be ignoring her.

"Forgive me for being late. I was preoccupied with other matters," a male voice claimed. The man attached to it, who had just appeared opposite Gabriel, had flowing silver locks and deep violet eyes.

"Raghnall. I should've known," Gabriel murmured.

"Next time, drop whatever you happen to be studying and respond to my summons. I'm not a patient master, surely you remember that, Raghnall," Satan said sharply.

"Rather hard to forget. I seem to remember a particularly vicious beating the last time I asked you to wait a moment while I finished torturing that lawyer before getting you a cup of coffee," Raghnall responded.

"I love how I'm ignored," Lenore remarked.

"Oh, how rude of me," Raghnall observed. "Good evening, fair lady Lenore. My name is Raghnall, if it pleases you. You may think of me as the opposite of Gabriel; Satan's left hand man, and the Demon of Despair."

"That's…nice, I guess. I didn't know demons had particular functions like that," she responded, making a mental note of that for a book on theology that Wolfe had planned to write.

"I regret that we did not meet under more joyful and carefree circumstances," Raghnall proclaimed. "You are quite a fascinating subject, you know. I would very much like to study you some day, if you have the time."

"No, I won't have time. Ever. I really don't appreciate being thought of as a subject for study."

"I am afraid that cannot be helped. You are like a beautiful butterfly that I would very much like to have the opportunity to observe."

"Must you waste our time with your pointless drivel?" Gabriel sighed.

"I see no reason for you to complain; you have all the time in the world. Lenore is the only one who does not have unlimited time, and yet I hear no complaints from her," Raghnall replied.

"Mostly because no one bothers to listen," Lenore muttered.

"So, is it to be battle between us, or are we just going to stand around talking?" Raghnall inquired.

The archangels drew fiery swords of God's wrath as one. "Don't I get any say in this?" Lenore snapped. The only response was the appearance of swords in the hands of the archangels' opposition. These swords seemed to radiate darkness, and Lenore didn't like the look of those swords at all. _Erik, don't use that sword, it scares me…_

"Won't you all just stop this? I hardly think I'm worth all this trouble," Lenore tried reasoning with them.

In a fluid, rapid movement, the archangels leapt forward, mercilessly attacking their opponents. Lenore screamed with fright and dropped to the ground, covering her head. There was no telling what would in a battle, and she didn't even want to contemplate what would happen to her if one of the swords touched her.

Strong arms encircled her waist and began pulling her up. "Let me go!" she screeched, frantically squirming in her captor's grip. It didn't matter who it was right now, just so long as she managed to get back to the ground. Ten to one her captor wouldn't mind using her for a shield, and there was no way she was letting herself get close to those swords if she could help it.

"Please stop squirming, I don't wish to drop you," a gentle man's voice pleaded with her. "The fall would kill you, child."

Lenore only just now registered the fact that they were a good hundred or more feet in the air, which caused her to produce a rather shrill scream as she scrambled to hang onto the man holding her.

"Who are you?" Lenore asked when she was sure she had a firm grip on the rather feminine looking angel who held her above the fray. His black hair was left loose, hanging to his shoulders. Red eyes watched the battle unfold, wincing when an archangel took a hit.

"I am Raphael," the man replied. "I hope you don't mind that I'm keeping you out of that mess."

"Um, no, that's cool. Just kinda freaked me out, being grabbed all the sudden," Lenore explained, watching from above. Satan had sprouted black wings, trying to chase after her, but Michael had followed and they waged an aerial battle above the rest of the fray.

Hiroshi and Remiel seemed to be bantering almost good-naturedly as they traded blows, and Lenore found that too weird to watch. She focused on Gabriel and Raghnall, and noticed that Raghnall was pushing his luck with naughty touches whenever he could sneak them in. Shaking her head, she turned her attentions to where they should have been in the first place; Erik.

Lenore couldn't help but get the feeling that Erik was somewhat outclassed by Uriel. Erik was spectacular, there was no doubt about his skill, but Uriel seemed to be half a step ahead of Erik, and there were many cases where Erik only managed to dodge at the last second.

"Can't you stop this?" Lenore asked Raphael.

"I'm afraid not. Lucifer and his gang of miscreants have been dying to have another crack at Michael and the others. And the other archangels have been longing for a battle reminiscent of the old days."

"Couldn't they do this in some place a bit more deserted? What if someone sees?" Lenore pointed out.

"Who's going to believe someone claiming to have seen a battle between Heaven and Hell?" Raphael retorted. "Would you like to get away from this for a bit?"

"Exactly what are you proposing?" Lenore inquired worriedly.

"I was hoping that I could spend a moment to visit the Bristol Cathedral. I haven't been there in ages, it would be nice to have a look at it. But I can't leave you here, unprotected. So unless you agree to go with me, I can't go," Raphael explained.

"Oh, um, I guess we can do that…" Lenore agreed.

"Splendid," Raphael said excitedly as his wings enveloped her. A bright light wrapped around them and she had to close her eyes.

When she opened her eyes, she was surprised to see the light of dawn filtering into the cathedral through windows. Lenore's next observation was her dress. It was of a very ancient style, and she didn't even want to begin to try discerning how many layers of undergarments she was wearing. "What's this?" she asked the archangel, who wore a monk's habit.

"You wouldn't have fit in, in that modern dress," Raphael said casually.

"What are you talking about? What have you done?"

"We're in Bristol Cathedral, in the year 1157," Raphael told her.

"1157? What am I then, a nun?" she hissed, prepared to strangle the archangel if he'd made her nun.

"Of course not. You'd have to take vows for that. You're a noble woman who has come to the cathedral to pray that God show you your path. You happen to be torn between deciding to marry a beastly man or devote your life to God and become a nun."

"I don't want to be a nun!"

"Look, that's just the story you're hiding behind; many noble women used the Church to keep themselves safe from marriages until they felt ready to accept their husbands. And the story isn't far off the truth, now is it? " Raphael sighed.

"Alright, you've seen the cathedral, now let's go back," Lenore politely demanded.

"Nonsense, I've only seen this section of it. I'll be busy with a monk's duties today, so you'll have to occupy yourself, I'm afraid."

"What do I do all day while you be a monk?"

"Well…you could always pray," Raphael said.

"You didn't mention being here all day when you asked!" Lenore hissed.

"You never asked how long I intended to stay before agreeing," Raphael pointed out. "Look, spending a day in prayer won't kill you. And who knows? Maybe God will speak to you and guide you down the path you are meant to travel. You certainly have nothing to lose."

"Archangels and the demons of Hell are all mad," Lenore muttered. "I'm definitely mentioning that in my book."

"Spend the day contemplating theology then, if you like," Raphael shrugged. "I must be going. I will meet you here when the evening bells are rung."

"Like I have any idea when that is," Lenore mumbled as he walked off and left her alone in the cathedral. A young apprentice monk came running through on his way to some chore, but she stopped him and asked him to take her to the best location in the cathedral for praying for God's divine wisdom.

They reached the area the young man claimed was best, and he scurried off as she knelt and did the whole Catholic cross thing before praying. "Dear God…you suck," she began. "I don't want to be here in 1157, spending all day on my knees asking you what you want me to do. I want to do what **I** want to do. But apparently my plan isn't good enough for you. No, you don't want me to marry the man – immortal, demon, whatever – that I love. You'd prefer me to devote my life to you and take the vow of chastity. No offense, but I rather like sex. And the vow of silence thing…not happening. Anyway, here am I, doing what I don't want to do but what you want me to do, asking you what path you think I should travel down. We'll see if it meets my approval."

Hours passed without a word. "God, I'm getting a bit bored here," Lenore complained. "I mean, if you don't tell me what you want, I can't possibly make a choice you'll like."

"He wants you to stop being so commanding and disrespectful," a voice snapped behind her.

Preparing to explain herself to some monk or nobleman, Lenore was entirely unprepared to find an angel with thirty six pairs of wings behind her. She jumped a mile and quickly retreated a few paces further into the room away from the angel. "Who the"- her voice cut out on her profane word, and she stared in shock.

"You shouldn't say that in a church, little girl," the angel scolded as his wings folded into his back and disappeared from view. "Until you're prepared to speak like a civilized being, you'll have to suffer not having a voice."

Lenore wasn't in the mood to be played with and stomped forward, pulling back a fist to punch him in the face. She was shocked when she found herself less than four feet tall with the body of a five year old. Needless to say, her punch was pathetically weak and she sat down on the floor in a huff.

The angel shook his head and pulled her back to her feet, taking her hand and leading her out into the cathedral gardens. "I am Metatron, child. I speak for God, as God can't actually speak to you himself. It violates the whole Free Will idea. Hearing God's voice would frighten you into a lifetime of belief and devotion." He stopped beneath a tree, sitting down on the grass and pulling her into his lap. "Now, as for your rather insolent inquiries about God's plan for you…

"Most mortals who obtain Second Life are given the same path from their First Life, but this is where it becomes a problem for you. Your first path was calculated with the factor of your death occurring in that accident you had at eighteen. You weren't supposed to survive it, but Satan stepped in. We're not entirely sure as to why he did that, to be honest with you.

"So your path was terminated when the accident occurred, with the assumption that you would die. Thus, you lived the last few years of your First Life without any plan whatsoever, leaving everything to chance. Having no path when you died, your Second Life is also devoid of any path. Which is one of the reasons there is such fuss being created over you. You have two roads before you, and you are not predestined to be on one or the other. It is entirely your choice. God cannot tell you which one you are meant to take.

"You have been gifted with an ability to touch men's souls in song, which your immortal honed to perfection. Naturally, God wishes you to turn down the path of Light, and use this gift to honor Him and show others the path that you travel on. You can choose to stay with your immortal, but the speculation of that path is not pleasant. You will be chained in darkness, and Satan will eventually find a way to use your gift to persuade men to sell their souls to Hell.

"So as you can see, there's really no answer either side can give you. The choice rests upon you, and you will bear the weight of this decision for eternity. If you choose to serve God, you will spend eternity in Heaven, but if you choose the path in darkness, you'll find yourself bound to Hell for all of time," Metatron told her.

Her voice was returned to her; she didn't know how she knew, she just did. "Why didn't I get a new path when I didn't die in the accident?" Lenore asked.

"A hastily made path leads to ruin and destruction," Metatron said. "We create every mortal's path over the course of one hundred years, finishing with it the moment they are conceived. As you can see, it is not a process that is done in quick span of time."

"Well, what about Second Life? Surely that infant had a plan before I took its place," Lenore reasoned.

"No matter what the plan was, your plan would take over, as you take the body. In this case, your lack of a plan took precedence."

"It's not fair," she sighed.

"Nothing's ever fair," Metatron laughed. "You'd have to be in Eden to have everything be fair."

"So what you're telling me is that I have to choose between Heaven and the man I love," Lenore established.

"That's putting it simply, but yes," Metatron agreed.

* * *

Erik didn't like this sword, this weapon of Darkness. He knew that if Lenore was touched by one, she would be turned into a demon. He didn't really want to wield it against Uriel, either. He had no qualms with the archangels (except for a slight anger towards Uriel for having touched Lenore) and didn't really care about this ridiculous war.

This was why he wasn't putting much effort into fighting Uriel, only enough to keep himself from being touched with that fiery sword, which was actually capable of killing immortals. _If only these Swords of Darkness could kill angels, the playing field would be even._

When Erik was momentarily distracted by a bright flash of white, Uriel thrust his sword towards Erik's heart to take advantage of the opportunity. The blade stopped just short of its target, Uriel's eyes widening with pain. As the archangel slumped to the ground, Raghnall yanked his sword out of the archangel's back.

"Watch yourself more carefully, Keeran," Raghnall instructed while his other arm deftly parried Gabriel's blows. _Damn him for having two swords, makes it easier for him._

Noting that the flash had heralded Raphael's abduction of Lenore, Erik snarled viciously. Fuck the damage these swords could cause. Grabbing one of Uriel's wings, he yanked it up violently and sliced through it. Uriel screamed in pain, hurriedly scrambling away from Erik on his hands and knees. _If I can just get that other wing severed, he'll be mortal, and then I can turn this bastard into a demon and be done with this._

"Well done," Raghnall commented, still fighting Gabriel.

"I'm so proud of you," Hiroshi added, pausing his banter with Remiel for a moment to praise Erik on his accomplishment.

"I still have one more wing to go," Erik replied cruelly. He knew that no immortal had ever severed an archangel's wing; hell, not even Satan had ever accomplished that. Just managing to cut off one wing was enough to win him Satan's favor and every demon's praise, but that all meant nothing to him. This fight was personal.

"Stop!" Raphael's voice cried out over the battle. It seemed the kidnapper had returned. "The battle is done," he declared. "The Metatron has spoken with her, and God decrees we remove our protection of the girl."

The archangels who were involved in the fight bowed their heads in acquiescence and disappeared, leaving only Raphael standing in the middle of Hell's warriors. His wings, which had been wrapped around his body, unfurled as he vanished, revealing Lenore, her eyes closed. She began to topple and Erik rushed forward, catching her before she hit the ground.

* * *

"My wing!" Uriel sobbed as he struggled against the chains the authoress had borrowed from Satan.

"Shush, I'll make it all better in a few minutes," the authoress promised, giving Uriel a naughty wink. "So, as you can see, the people who review get a shout out at the beginning. You all know you want a shout out, so review."

"Fair Lady Authoress, would you be so kind as to tell me your real name?" Raghnall asked, ignoring his bonds.

"Hmm, maybe if my readers want to know," the authoress said thoughtfully.

"Oh beloved readers, would you please convince her to reveal her real name?" Raghnall pleaded.

There were a few muffled noises from the muzzled Hiroshi. Erik was worriedly watching over the unconscious Lenore, ignoring the authoress completely.

"I'm gonna need some shackles for that bad Phantom of mine, can't have him doting over the heroine. Doesn't he realize that he's mine?" the authoress mumbled. "I rule his fate in this fic, you'd think he'd have the sense to at least deceive me into believing he loves me more than Lenore."

"My wing!" Uriel repeated.

"Alright, I'm coming, my yummy Uriel," the authoress proclaimed, leaping up to 'tend' to her captive archangel.


	36. Chapter 36

Lady Taevyn: You said we need resolution after chapter 35…(chuckles nervously)

Lethia: Yeah, I think I know why hearing that Satan saved her from death in her accident would make you feel a bit sick.

LoveMe1010: Um…dude, I'm sorry you got lost. I do have a plot I'm working towards, yes. It's somewhat insulting to say that you begin to question that. There's a reason for this mass of angels and demons fighting over her, which apparently just wasn't clear enough to you. Lenore could either save thousands of souls in the name of God, or she could damn thousands of souls to Hell. She doesn't have a set path, so naturally good and evil are fighting over her, hoping to secure her for their side. As to characters coming in (angels and demons I won't bother with, as they are representing sides of good and evil in this fight): Wailing parents? Where the bloody hell is that coming from? I honestly have no idea. That one seems very random to me. If you could tell me who you mean by wailing parents, maybe I could help explain that one a bit better. I'm assuming the "whole bunch of confusing characters that do not get enough attention to gain depth and add to the plot" are a reference to Tori and Lucinda. (I'm not counting archangels or demons, as I said.) Tori and Lucinda may not be important characters at this point in time, and they may not gain depth yet, but I never bring in characters unless I have plans for them further down the line. If you need examples of that, take Sebastian Rousseau, Patrick O'Malley, and Hiroshi. When I first introduced those three, they didn't seem to really serve much purpose at all. Sebastian came into play when Lenore was rescued by the navy SEALs. Patrick is now Ember's husband. Hiroshi…well, let's not even discuss how important/key Hiroshi has become. So, the last few chapters have been used to introduce some characters that will come into play later and also show you how eager Heaven and Hell are to have Lenore (and why they are so eager to have her). For a note about the angels: I used the names of archangels, and maybe I didn't really need to. But I wanted people to know these were archangels, not just random warriors of God. So I used their names. Sorry if that was confusing, but…well…like I said, I didn't want people thinking these are just some random angels popping in. The archangels show how important God finds Lenore's soul to be, that's all. Oh, and I forgot about Raghnall, I'm sorry. He's gonna become more important later on too. I hope that helps…If not, let me know.

MJ MOD: I don't know if I'll ever let Erik learn that Lenore sent him to Russia, lol. Though that might be a good idea to save for a rainy day with no inspiration. As to what I'll do with Uriel…well, I'll do what any sex-hungry all-powerful authoress would with a good looking fictional character. (naughty wink)

Shariena: As to whether or not Lenore chose Erik…read on…

Artzee: Yes, the angels are quite yummy. (licks lips) And yeah, how does Gabe stay on the ground with 140 pairs of wings? I'll have to ask God when I meet Him…

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore battled her way back to consciousness, fighting black exhaustion the whole way. When she finally got her eyes open, she stared at the ceiling above her for a few minutes. _I know this bed…I've been in it enough…_ Throwing back the covers, Lenore swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed herself to her feet. She almost slammed the door shut when opening it revealed Satan, Hiroshi, and Raghnall sitting around in the drawing room sipping coffee while Erik slept on the couch.

"Sleeping Beauty has awoken," Raghnall said without even glancing in her direction.

_Holy Hell, how did he know I was here?_

"Would you care to join us?" Satan suggested, gesturing to the floor (which was where Hiroshi and Raghnall were seated, as the only seating in the room was the chair Satan occupied and the couch Erik was sprawled out on).

"Not particularly, but there's nothing else to do," Lenore replied, coming out and sitting down on Raghnall's left. "What are you all still doing here? Why don't you go back to Hell or whatever?"

"We didn't want you to be all alone when you woke up," Hiroshi said sweetly.

"Or you just want to annoy me into answering questions about Second Life," Lenore retorted. "Not to mention Erik's here, I'd hardly call that 'alone'."

"Master, are you absolutely sure"- Raghnall began.

"I am positive about it!" Satan snarled. "You saw what he did to Uriel. Now imagine what he'd do to you."

"Yet if I get him to consent, you are not opposed?"

"Not at all," Satan replied. "Shouldn't you offer her something to drink?"

"Oh, how terribly rude of me," Raghnall remarked, turning to her. "Would you like coffee? Or perhaps tea?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine," she politely refused. Quite frankly, she wasn't going to accept any food or drink from a demon. "I have a question for you," she told Satan.

"Ask away," he said, sipping his coffee as interest appeared in his eyes.

"Why did you save me from the accident?" There was no point in beating around the bush.

"For the same reason I brought the vacancy at the Opera Populaire to your attention," Satan answered evasively.

"And what was the purpose of that?" she snapped, not in the mood to have her question avoided.

"To give Erik precisely what he wanted," Satan chuckled. "He wanted a lover, someone who wouldn't run away and who could find it in her heart to love him for himself."

"Dude, you're the devil, do you really expect me to believe you saved me for love?"

"I never said I saved you for love. I saved you for Erik. I do occasionally give my children gifts, you know," Satan snarkily replied. "If I'd thought you'd stand for it, I would've wrapped you in ribbons and left you on his bed. But when you tried to stop the paramedics from cutting off your jacket to assess your injuries, I realized that you'd most likely take exception to the ribbons. Which is why I aggravated your injuries; it ensured you'd have difficulty finding anyone else who would be attracted to you. Physical scarring isn't a turn-on for many."

"You mean the scars…? You…? I'll…" she sputtered, unable to put together a proper sentence.

"I so enjoyed packaging you for him. Even if it did take almost three years," Satan sighed dreamily. "Do you have any idea how hard it was with those doctors working their hardest to fix you?"

"BASTARD!" Lenore finally managed to shout, leaping to her feet and grabbing Satan by the neck with the intention of choking him until she died. Erik sat bolt upright, woken by her shriek. When he saw what was going on, he shrugged carelessly and lay back down.

"Let go of him," Hiroshi practically wailed, standing up and trying to pry Lenore's fingers off of the devil's throat.

Raghnall conjured up paper and pen, furiously scribbling in a strange language she didn't recognize.

Finally, Hiroshi won and Lenore, who had been using as much strength as possible to hold her ground, flew backward when her grip was broken, stumbling over Raghnall. Raghnall cursed when the course of the pen backtracked and scribbled through a line of writing, and Lenore fell onto the couch, hitting Erik in the stomach and knocking the wind out of him.

"Get out!" Lenore commanded angrily. "All three of you! This is our home, and you're not welcome here!"

"We're not leaving, darling," Satan choked out hoarsely. "Not until we've fully discussed your behavior with your master."

"Bullshit! You'll leave now, or I'll call the archangels," she threatened.

"They won't protect you any more," Raghnall stated. "God has cancelled the mission to guard you."

"Then I'll find Erik's Punjab lasso and learn how to wield it on you three," she snarled.

"To what point and purpose? We can't die," Hiroshi pointed out.

"No, but you can feel pain, which I promise to give to those who incur my wrath," Lenore replied.

"Get off of me," Erik snapped. "I can't breathe."

"Are you implying that I'm fat?" Lenore accused, not moving an inch.

"Of course not," Erik responded. "I'm just implying that you're making it difficult to breathe."

"What does it matter? You can't die."

"No, but I can feel the lack of oxygen affecting me."

Lenore stood up, glaring at the three before her. "Tell these jerks to get out, they won't listen to me," Lenore huffed.

"Surely at least one of you can leave," Erik sighed.

"As Commander of the Condemned Circle, it is my duty to decide the sentence," Raghnall replied dismissively.

"I am the representative witness for the Circle," Hiroshi said with a smirk.

"I don't leave because I choose to be here," Satan dismissed Erik's request.

"What are they on about?" Lenore inquired.

"Your actions are deplorable for that of a pet," Hiroshi commented. "Such conduct cannot go unpunished."

"We aren't living in the dark ages anymore, women can say and do whatever they please, thank you very much," Lenore informed him.

"You are not being held accountable by the laws of the mortal realm. Technically, you're not even the one being held accountable," Raghnall said matter-of-factly, turning his eyes to Erik.

"Keeran, do you acknowledge this mortal as your own?" Hiroshi asked with a great deal of formality.

"I do," Erik replied with equal formality.

"The charges against you are complete inability to teach the mortal proper conduct in the presence of others and incompetent control of said mortal. You may plead guilty and accept any punishment decided upon by the Commander, or you may plead not guilty and deliver her into our hands to be punished by each member in turn for the next one thousand years," Hiroshi stated.

Lenore wanted to object and defend herself (and Erik) against those accusations, but she had the feeling if she spoke, it'd only make things worse. So she plopped down on the couch beside Erik.

Erik looked at her for a few moments before turning his attention back to the other immortals. "I plead guilty," he said, sounding very much as though someone had made him say that at gunpoint.

Raghnall pulled a scroll out of his shirt and unrolled it. Lenore winced at the length of it. "The evidence documents an infinite number of occasions of profanity, talking back, and being verbally disrespectful towards her master or another immortal. There are at least eight documentations of physical violence to her master or another immortal. There are two escape attempts listed; the first being in her First Life that involved the aid of Navy SEALs, the second being in Second Life and involving the aid of archangels. This brings us to the citations of association with the archangels Michael, Uriel, Gabriel, Remiel, and Raphael. It is recorded she has been gifted numerous little freedoms, such as being allowed to spend lengths of time without her master's supervision. Any other charges that were brought forth were minor and have been dismissed in light of the damage done to Uriel by Keeran's hands," Raghall read off.

"Do you have any evidence to dispute any of these claims?" Hiroshi asked.

Lenore's stomach was sinking quickly. She hadn't realized that her actions would be so well documented, or that the Circle would actually call her to account for these things. _Call Erik to account, technically._

"I have nothing to dispute these claims," Erik replied. "Fire is never easy to control."

"Are you prepared to hear the sentence?"

"I am."

"For excessive profanity, we strip her of her voice for three months. For physical violence, she will be dealt fifty lashes. For attempting to escape, she will die immediately if she flees her master at any point over the course of the next year. All freedoms that she has been given are forthwith prohibited to her, and she will never be out of her master's sight for more than five minutes. Should she proceed past the time length set forth, the mortal will receive ten lashes for every illicit minute," Raghnall sentenced her.

"You may now accept these terms or you may reverse your guilty plea," Hiroshi informed Erik.

Erik turned his eyes to her once again. She knew this time he was silently asking her if she agreed to the aforementioned punishments. "What exactly would a plea of not guilty entail?" she asked him. She was entirely ignorant of the Circle's judicial workings.

"You will be given to each member of the Circle for a hundred or so years to be punished as that member sees fit. A plea of not guilty is essentially considered an avoidance of taking accountability for your actions, which almost must be punished; this is why the punishment is harsher and extended to a term of one thousand years," Erik explained to her.

"The decision is not hers to make," Raghnall said sharply. "It lies upon you, Keeran."

Lenore kept her mouth closed, choosing to tell him to accept these terms with her eyes.

"I accept these terms," Erik sighed heavily with sadness.

* * *

Erik winced with Lenore as he applied a poultice to the welts on her back from the whipping she'd received. He knew the poultice stung, but it would speed up the healing process and save her pain in the long run. The only small blessing in this whole ordeal was that her voice was taken and she was incapable of producing audible screams as the whip bit into her flesh. Had her cries been audible, Erik would've died.

Finished with doctoring her injuries, Erik reached out a hand to stroke her hair, but pulled it back almost immediately. Even if it was meant in a comforting gesture, it would only serve to remind her that she was considered a pet.

"Lenore…please don't cry anymore. It's over now," Erik said, doing his best to keep his own pain out of his voice. He had to be strong for her right now. Moving closer, he put a hand on her arm gently as she cried silently into the pillows.

Of course it had been ridiculous of him to address her verbally, as she was incapable of responding in the same manner. But he didn't want to slip into her mind at this point; the emotions would be extremely powerful; he might lose what little self-control he possessed and break down into tears himself.

Lenore sat up, sniffling, and pressed herself against his chest before releasing another round of tears into his shirt. He was halfway through putting his arms around her before he remembered he couldn't touch her back without hurting her. He didn't know what to say to her; it wouldn't help to point out that it could be worse.

_I'll have to take her with me every time I go aboveground; she's not allowed to be left 'unsupervised'. God, but that's ridiculous. It limits my freedom as well as hers…but that's part of the point, I suppose. Every punishment inflicted upon her is designed to punish me in its own way as well. For letting her language slide, I'm prohibited from hearing her voice. For letting her be physically violent, I'm forced to watch it be dealt to her in return._

"I'm sorry," Erik whispered. "I should never have let you known I was here. I should have left you alone from the very beginning." She shook her head and pulled back, shaking her head again to emphasize her disagreement. "No, you're not right. If I'd kept to the shadows and let you be, you wouldn't be hurting right now."

Lenore vehemently shook her head and looked at him pleadingly. He had no idea what she wanted until she finally tapped her head.

_If you'd kept to the shadows, I'd be dead right now._

"Which would be infinitely better than suffering these absurd terms," Erik tried to reason with her.

_Stop it, it's not your fault. These are results of my actions, not yours. Don't punish yourself for this._

"You wouldn't be dealing with these consequences if"-

_Stop it! Just…stop…please._

Erik knew it would make her feel better if he humored her, so he didn't say another word. "Perhaps you would like it if I read to you?" he suggested after a few moments. He couldn't think of anything else that might make her feel better; he felt singing to her would be like rubbing in the fact that her voice was gone. Not that reading to her was much better. She nodded, and he retrieved the Robert Jordan book they had left off in the middle of a month ago.

As three months passed, the silence became lighter and Erik found himself connecting to her mind far more often than was considered safe. Every immortal knew that if you kept touching a mortal's mind often enough, a permanent two-way link would eventually be established. It frightened Erik to think about how much she could learn about him if that link was created. There was so much she didn't know, so much of a tortured past that he kept hidden. It would only generate pity, and he didn't want any of her affections to be based on pity.

Erik woke her one early November morning. Asking her what she wanted for breakfast, he had already slipped into her mind to obtain his answer when,

"Scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon," she said, a pleased smile turning up the corners of her lips.

"Say it again," he demanded. Too many times he had dreamed of hearing her voice. He needed to be sure this wasn't another of those dreams.

"Have you gone deaf?" she chuckled.

That was all the response he needed. He took her into his arms and assaulted her with a kiss of pure joy.

* * *

Three months had taken forever to pass, yet they had flown by at the same time. Erik pestered her to say something every few minutes, which made it rather difficult to eat her breakfast before it got cold.

"Stop asking me to talk," she pleaded. "My eggs are frozen and my toast is like a rock." Erik laughed at that. "I'm not kidding." She picked up her toast and banged it against the table to emphasize her point. "See that? I'd do it again, but I might break the table."

Erik stood up and walked over to her, taking her up in his arms and heading for the bedroom.

"But I didn't get a decent breakfast," Lenore protested.

"Three months of silence and you waste your voice on that?" Erik inquired.

"I don't think it's too much to demand a decent meal."

"Let's see if I can't find a better use for your voice," Erik proposed, dropping her on the bed.

"What would you like me to sing?" she asked.

"My name. In the key of ecstasy," he replied, removing every layer of clothing from the top half of his body.

"Maybe I don't want to sing that," she teased.

"You asked me what I wanted you to sing," Erik pointed out. "It's not really your choice, now is it, ma chérie?"

"You wouldn't want to force me, now would you?" Lenore chuckled, rolling over onto her stomach and crawling away from him. He leapt on top of her flattening her to the bed.

"I'm a master of persuasion, so there's really no need to force you," he purred in her ear.

Making love with Erik was everything she had remembered and more. He took her as many times as he could throughout the day, leaving her body so sore that she was sure even breathing would hurt for the rest of her life.

Lenore fell asleep in his arms, her naked form snugged up against his own. Her dreams took her to a place she had been visiting for the past three months. The long, sandy beach was bathed in twilight and the tide kept kissing her feet as she walked along to the figure waiting in the distance.

"You're a bit later than usual," Uriel remarked when she finally sat beside him.

"Guess so," she replied casually, staring out over the ocean.

"Oh, you got your voice back," he noted, giving her a breath-taking smile. "I really missed it, you know."

"I know," she said. "But we certainly found ways to pass the time."

Uriel chuckled, taking her face in his hands and placing a gentle kiss on her lips. He pulled back, gently pulling her hair out from behind her ears, tangling his fingers in her long locks. "You look beautiful tonight," Uriel complimented her. He said it every night, but it was nice to hear anyway.

Lenore knew exactly why she visited with Uriel every night, even if she pretended not to. She liked him, very much. Also, she felt that it was wrong of her to simply turn away from God, to follow a path leading into damnation and darkness. But she knew that she wanted to be with Erik, because she loved him so deeply.

_Could I manage to content myself with Uriel? If I take the path God wishes me to, I'd have to give up Erik's love…would Uriel's affections be sufficient enough? Would I come to love him as much as I love Erik? Why does this have to be so difficult? Why do I have to decide? Couldn't this have all been planned out from the beginning of time? Because I'm afraid of committing to Uriel or Erik, God or Satan. And if this has already been set down, then I don't have to worry about which one I choose, because I was going to choose the one over the other, no matter what happened._

Uriel took her into his arms as he kissed her again. It was different from kissing Erik. With Uriel, she felt as though her soul was being filled with light and peace. It always soothed her to have that feeling coursing through her body. She worried that it meant her love for Uriel was pure, and she only lusted for Erik. No relationship built on lust was meant to last, and if that was the case, she should cut ties with Erik as quickly as possible to avoid the pain the falling out would cause.

"Your immortal would have a fit if he saw this," Uriel breathed against her lips.

"Why did we have to grow attached to each other?" she inquired softly. "Why do we have to feel like this?"

"Love never did make sense," Uriel replied. "Even God can't figure it out."

Lenore sighed; she wanted a better answer than that. She wanted something that would take away the guilt she felt at being here with Uriel. Softly, she sang to him as her guilty tears escaped her control.

Honey, why you calling me so late?  
It's kinda hard to talk right now.

Uriel took over for the moment.

Honey, why you crying? Is everything okay?

Lenore put a finger over his lips.

We've gotta whisper cause we can't be too loud.  
Well, my man's in the next room.  
Sometimes I wish he was you.  
I guess I never really moved on  
It's really good to hear your voice, saying my name.  
It sounds so sweet  
Coming from the lips of an angel.  
Hearing those words, it makes me weak.  
And I never wanna say goodbye.  
But boy, you make it hard to be faithful  
With the lips of an angel.

It's funny that you're calling me tonight.  
And yes, I've dreamt of you too.

But it seemed Uriel had thought of something that worried him, and gently sang against the finger that was meant to silence him.

Does he know you're talking to me?  
Will it start a fight?

Lenore smiled as reassuringly as possible before answering.

No, I don't think he has a clue.  
Well, my man's in the next room.  
Sometimes I wish he was you.  
I guess I never really moved on  
It's really good to hear your voice, saying my name.  
It sounds so sweet  
Coming from the lips of an angel.  
Hearing those words, it makes me weak.  
And I never wanna say goodbye.  
But boy, you make it hard to be faithful  
With the lips of an angel.

It's really good to hear your voice, saying my name.  
It sounds so sweet  
Coming from the lips of an angel.  
Hearing those words, it makes me weak.  
And I never wanna say goodbye.  
But boy, you make it hard to be faithful  
With the lips of an angel.  
Never wanna say goodbye.  
But boy, you make it hard to be faithful  
With the lips of an angel.  
Honey, why you calling me so late?

"If being separated from me bothers you so much, then leave him," Uriel suggested.

"I can't…" Lenore said.

"Then perhaps we should stop meeting like this," Uriel whispered, tearing his eyes away from her to look at the dark waves rolling over his feet before hurriedly retreating back to the ocean.

Lenore didn't have a response for that. She didn't know if she wanted to stop seeing him. _I'm such a stupid little girl! I should be able to make up my mind. Whining about the problem won't do any good, I need to make a decision. As soon as possible._ She looked at the stump that had once been a wing and grimaced sympathetically. "Does it still hurt?" she asked.

"Not really," Uriel replied. "Just a twinge here or there occasionally."

"I'm sorry," Lenore told him, not for the first time.

"It wasn't your fault. He's the one who"-

"I know, but I'm apologizing for him."

"I doubt he'd apologize."

"Maybe not. But I'd like to believe he would…okay?"

* * *

Erik looked at the young woman cradled in his embrace, sleeping so peacefully. _What are you dreaming about, my little one?_ _What makes you smile like that, and heave that contented little sigh?_

He seriously considered peering into her dreams, but decided against it. He couldn't keep connecting to her mind so often. He was walking on a fine line with that as it was. And she wouldn't appreciate having him know private thoughts like that. _Besides, Erik, what do you think would make her smile and sigh like that in her dreams? Surely you know there's no one else.

* * *

_

"Eh, I'm just gonna tell you all my name, I tire of referring to myself as "the authoress". Bah on titles! Unless they're royal titles…wish I had some of those…" the authoress mumbled. "Anyways, I am called Tammy."

"Tammy? Doesn't that name mean 'perfect'?" Raghnall mused.

"Yup," Tammy beamed.

"Well, your parents certainly chose a poor name then," Erik muttered.

"I heard that," Tammy told her beloved Phantom. "I'd glare at you, but I'm already getting my revenge on you in my own way." She laughed maniacally and Erik considered praying for God's intervention on his behalf.

There were some muffled comments from the muzzled Hiroshi, and the bound, molested Uriel whimpered fearfully, certain this laughter meant another scenario filled with sexual abuse was headed his way.

"Hey! Where the hell am I?" Ember shouted angrily, storming up to Tammy and smacking her upside the head. "I am not enjoying being ignored in such a fashion!"

"I'm sorry…we've had some busy plot-enhancing chapters," Tammy said defensively.

"And why am I not involved in the plot enhancement?"

"Um…so, please review people…you're prolly all going to yell at me for the whole Lenore-Uriel thing, but…eh, go ahead. At least it's a review," Tammy said with a shrug.

"Don't you ignore my questions!" Ember snapped, smacking Tammy again for good measure.

"I'm beginning to like Ember very much," Erik chuckled as he watched Tammy get pulverized by Ember.


	37. Chapter 37

Lady Taevyn: Yes, I know Erik's been through a lot and doesn't need me aggravating things by making difficulties with Lenore's indecision. But he insulted me at the end of the last chapter…aren't I allowed to get revenge for that?

MJ MOD: It would seem that education is declining around the world. I mean, what type of school neglects to educate you on the ability of angels to have sex?

Lethia: Thank you for finding the whole indecision between Uriel and Erik to be interesting instead of hateful. I'm so happy that you weren't all like "GRR! Erik!! Kill Uriel!!"

Jackjackio: I'm glad you like the story. Sorry it took so long to update, but it's my junior year of college, and I tend to have loads of work to do.

Shariena: I'm sorry to make you so upset by her liking Uriel. Truly, I am. Mainly her whole thing with Uriel is her still clinging to the idea of living her life the way God wants it. The meetings with Uriel and all that jazz are a symbol of the fact that she feels the attraction of good/Heaven, and isn't sure if she's ready to give that up for Erik. But don't worry, it won't last much longer…a couple chapters at most, if that. Prolly not even that long.

Iluvmyphantom: I know Lenore's acting like dumb Christine, but we all do stupid things sometimes. Please don't torture Lenore, she's somewhat central to the plot. Not to mention how upset Erik would be…

Artzee: You didn't review last chapter (you may not have read it yet, though it's been up at least a week), and I'm worried about what's happened to you. I hope the evil flamingos didn't get you…cursed competition for taking over the world, they always try to kill off the people who make me happy…

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore sighed again, trying to make sure she didn't sigh too loudly. She was stretched out on the couch, doodling on some parchment while Erik sat close by doing some sketching of his own. Architecture, he said, so she wasn't too interested.

_I can't draw that, damnit._ She kept wanting to draw angels and humans in very romantic poses and settings, but she didn't know what she'd do if Erik saw. _I'd die, that's what I'd do…_

"Erik, what should I draw?" she asked, hoping whatever he suggested would be of enough interest for her to involve herself in the project and forget about the guilt she felt for meeting Uriel in dreams.

"Whatever you're good at drawing," he replied absently, obviously deeply into his own sketches.

"Thanks for nothing," Lenore grumbled.

"You're welcome," Erik mumbled distractedly, not even picking up on the fact that she'd informed him that he wasn't being helpful.

Lenore sighed again, not bothering to worry about its volume this time. Erik certainly wouldn't notice or realize she was bored. "Erik, do you have a protractor, compass, and ruler I could use?" Lenore asked, deciding it didn't really matter what she drew since Erik wasn't paying attention anyway. The ruler would make certain she got proper lengths on arms and legs, the protractor would make excellent curves for the wings, and the compass would be used to make certain the woman's breasts wouldn't turn out lopsided.

"Yes, that's fine," Erik muttered, his brow furrowing as he erased something.

_Dear God, he's not listening to me at all!_

"Erik, can I go out and have mad passionate sex with multiple partners?"

"That'd be lovely, darling," he said in that voice which indicated he was completely absorbed in his work and couldn't possibly be bothered to resurface at this point in time. Suddenly, the pencil stopped moving and she heard the point break. "Of course you can't!" he all but shouted at her, finally taking his eyes off his precious sketch.

"So which is it?" Lenore inquired, managing to keep her face perfectly straight.

"The latter, you dense woman," Erik snarled, shooting her a glare that almost froze her blood to ice water in her veins.

"Don't get yourself in a tizzy," Lenore scolded him. "I was only joking. If you weren't so obsessed with that stupid sketch, I wouldn't have to resort to such drastic measures to get your attention."

"I cannot help my obsession, as you call it. I merely wish this to be perfect," Erik said defensively.

"Well, I don't care. Isn't it pointless to draw a building? You're not going to have it constructed," Lenore reasoned. After all, it was rather difficult to have a building made while hiding in the basement of the Opera House.

Erik sighed and shook his head as if she understood nothing at all. "What did you need?" he said, deciding she must have required something to have resorted to such extreme measures to get his attention.

"Never mind," she murmured, settling to sketch something at last.

"No, I'll not 'never mind'! Tell me what it is you require," Erik persisted.

"I need you to be quiet so I can concentrate on my drawing," she replied, a small smirk touching her face. This would be something to hang on the fridge…if they'd had one. She supposed the mantel could host it instead.

Finally she finished her work and, leaping off the couch, she bounced over to present it to Erik. Erik, for his part, had waited for her to finish it before resuming his own work. "What is this?" he inquired, gesturing to the picture.

"It's stick art, silly!" she exclaimed. "See, this is ground level. This mass of rectangles is the frame work for a building, and those stick guys are the construction crew. This is us belowground in the basement. The one with the skirt is me, of course. Now read what I wrote in your little speech bubble."

" 'You incompetent fools, can't you follow simple instructions?' " Erik read. He gave a soft chuckle.

"I knew you'd like it," Lenore proclaimed, taking her picture from his hands and setting it up on the mantel.

"Why are you putting it on the mantel?"

"To display my artwork. If you had a fridge, I could put it up there. But…oh well, the mantel's good enough I suppose. Not as much space for drawings as a fridge though."

"There's very little point in displaying such amateur art," Erik said with a careless shrug.

"Nonsense!" Lenore protested. "Kids do it all the time. I remember how much Hiroshi loved my finger paintings, and how I covered the fridge with them every day. And then there was the day I decided to just save time and paper by painting the fridge itself. I got in so much trouble for that, I wasn't allowed paint for a year."

"If you don't need anything, I'll return to my sketch now, ma petite," Erik stated.

"Ugh! Put it down for a while! I'm bored," Lenore complained.

"When aren't you bored?" Erik muttered.

"When I'm doing something that doesn't bore me," Lenore said. "C'mon, let's do something! Let's go out today, okay? We could…visit my mom or something…"

"Visiting your mother is torture. Are you so deranged that you prefer torture to boredom?"

"Well…torture isn't boring," Lenore shrugged.

"Alright, we'll go out," Erik sighed, putting his art supplies aside and heading for the bedroom to prepare for a venture aboveground.

"Woo hoo!" Lenore crowed excitedly, rushing after him for her own preparations.

* * *

Lenore looked exquisite in her crimson dress, a black hooded cloak wrapped around her shoulders and black gloves on her small, slender hands. The temperature was somewhere in the mid forties, and Erik had insisted she wear the gloves so she wouldn't go catching cold.

For his part, Erik wore a dark chocolate suit so dark it was almost black with a crimson waistcoat and cravat (Lenore had chosen her dress to match his choice for their outing), a dark chocolate cloak, and matching gloves. And of course the skin tone mask that made his face seem perfect to anyone who glanced at him. That mask was a wonderful invention that allowed him such freedom.

Not one of the people in the Bois de Boulogne recoiled in terror or shrieked at his appearance. Most of the available young women stared, practically drooling, shooting the occasional glare at the fortunate woman on his arm, who was blissfully unaware of the jealousy she created. The young men in the Bois glared at Erik for having obtained the attentions of the young women.

Lenore kept chattering excitedly, proclaiming over the colors of the changing leaves on the trees, the wildlife that skittered across their path, and the clouds that she found particular shapes in. Erik realized with a slight pang of sadness that he'd never seen this side of her before. Not once under the Opera House had she been so eager to talk to him about the most random little things. _So you managed to keep some things hidden underneath your masks after all, little one. I thought I knew you perfectly inside and out. It would seem there are some things left to learn about you after all._

"I love the way the air smells – and tastes – in spring, summer, and fall. It's winter I don't like," Lenore was rambling. "It's too cold, and there's no flavor or scent to the air at all. Autumn's my favorite season though. Spring's too rainy for me, and summer's hot. But autumn has that chill in the air that makes you think of fireplaces and hot chocolate, and all the animals are settling in for hibernation, and all the plants are dying."

Erik merely smiled, pleased that she was so energetic, so happy to be out…so alive. Guilt washed over him for keeping this beautiful falcon caged for so long. She needed to get out more often. _I never even realized I only saw the dead side of you. I never knew there was a side so alive, so delighted with everything in the outside world. You hate the world so much, it never occurred to me that there might be anything left aboveground that you liked._

"Ooo, ducks! I want to feed them!" Lenore proclaimed as they came close to the lake, where a swarm of ducks swam about, eagerly snatching up bread crumbs tossed out by tourists.

"I suppose we could do that," Erik permitted, trying not to laugh. She was like a small child.

Erik watched Lenore with amusement as she promptly approached a tourist and asked for some of the bread they were giving out. Once she had secured some bread, she hurried to the water's edge and began tempting the ducks onto the land, much to the delight of all the children present. Older children held back the little ones who wanted to rush up and pet the ducks, knowing it would only frighten the poor animals.

"Don't get yourself bitten, chérie," Erik called to her. Granted, it wouldn't be a problem if a duck bit her, but he didn't know if he could stand her whining about being bitten by an evil duck and why hadn't he done something to save her, hm?

"I was bit by a goose once!" she declared proudly. "The biggest, baddest goose in the pond! He knocked all the other geese down and almost knocked me over snatching the bread from my hand. I was on crutches then, the goose must have known it'd be like taking candy from a baby."

When the ducks were a good distance from the pond, the older children began closing a circle around the small flock that followed Lenore in the hopes of securing a few more crumbs of food. Planning to trap the ducks for their petting delight, Erik knew there would be a vast amount of duck bitten children if he didn't step in.

Most of the ducks hurriedly escaped through the gaps the children left, but Erik scooped up the closest one. Animals seemed to have a great love for Erik and would put up with anything if he seemed to wish it. Surely enough, the duck did not protest its capture, merely stayed perfectly still in his hands, waiting for the bread it had been hoping for.

Lenore fed the duck little bits while the children crowded around, eagerly petting any part of the duck they could reach. Adults wore looks of astonishment at his ability to capture a duck, and at the fact that the duck didn't struggle whatsoever.

At first, Erik was pleased to have delighted the children, to have them clustered around him. But after a few moments, he was rather sad. He would never have his own children to squeal with happiness and pleasure at the amazing capabilities their father possessed, to crowd around with smiles on their small faces. Having Lenore beside him seemed to make it all the worse. This was exactly how he wished their life together could be, full of the laughter and joy of children. For just a moment, he let himself pretend these were all his children, and Lenore his wife, sharing an afternoon together in the Bois.

But the moment couldn't last forever, and Erik made sure that each child had had a chance to touch the duck before he let it go. The poor thing hurried for the pond, the pack of children chasing it the whole way.

"That was fun," Lenore said with a grin. "What you did with that duck was amazing. They don't like being captured or held." She beamed up at him, and Erik marveled at the realization that her praise thrilled him and he wanted to find other ways to win her acclaim.

A sudden gust of wind assaulted all present around the pond, and leaves flew into the air, losing their delicate grip on their tree branches. Erik and Lenore's cloaks swirled in that wind, and he heard some of the children expressing awe over the movements of the fabric. A few leaves caught in Lenore's hair, and Erik already began dreading their removal. The leaves might crumble into tiny bits that would get hopelessly ensnarled in her golden brown mane of hair.

"Is the weather right for flying a kite?" Lenore wondered aloud. "I've never done that, but I always wanted to."

Erik chuckled. Such a delightful person hid inside Lenore, needing only the right atmosphere to show herself. Her child-like attitude was surprisingly refreshing, and it made him almost sorry that he'd never had a childhood as wonderful as hers to make him want to act so young and carefree.

* * *

Lenore was enjoying herself far more than she ever had before. She usually always encountered something to depress her in every outing she'd ever been on in her lives before this one. But for once, it seemed that everything was going to run perfectly.

Observing the sky as though she knew how to determine what was good for kite flying, she saw a few birds circling around, and that made her think of flying in general, which ended up leading to Uriel. Which brought her spirits crashing to the ground.

_Good job, idiot. Just go and ruin your afternoon. Not like I wanted to have a good time anyway…_

Knowing she couldn't let Erik see that her spirits had suddenly plummeted, Lenore gave a careless sigh. "Oh well, I suppose kite flying isn't a good idea," she said. "I don't know how…and unless you know, there's really no point in the both of us embarrassing ourselves."

"No, I'm afraid I don't know anything about it," Erik replied.

"Wait, there's something the awe-inspiring Erik doesn't know how to do?" Lenore gasped in shock. "Well, we have to now."

"I doubt the weather is right for it," Erik used as an excuse.

"You don't know anything about it," Lenore protested. "C'mon, let's give it a shot, the worst that can happen is that you can't master the art of kite flying, right?"

"We should be heading back; it's getting late."

"Oh fine, spoilsport. But promise we'll come back some day and try it," Lenore pleaded, putting on her best pout to help persuade him.

"If we must," Erik sighed in aggravation.

Lenore gave a gleeful squeal and took the elbow he offered her. He led her out of the Bois, and as they strolled along while considering dining out for the evening, she spied a young girl trying to sell a small kitten.

"Erik, can we have a cat?" Lenore inquired, interrupting him in his critique of a particular restaurant.

"Surely you don't mean that scraggly animal that looks more like a rat than a cat?" Erik said.

"Look at the poor thing, all skin and bones," she replied.

"It's not purebred," Erik argued.

"I don't want a purebred," she countered. "I want that kitty."

"I indulge you far too much," he finally answered before approaching the girl and giving her double the price she asked. The girl's coat was little better than a rag on the verge of falling apart.

* * *

Erik glared at the small male kitten purring contentedly on Lenore's lap in their cab. He wasn't sure why he felt jealous of the attention it was receiving; it was only a cat, after all.

"He's gonna need a bath," Lenore noted. "Aren't you, sweetheart?"

"Yes, his dominant breed is impossible to discern with all the dirt caked in his fur," Erik said, reaching out a hand to stroke the little thing. He was utterly shocked when the kitten hissed at him.

"I think I'll call him Bishop," Lenore declared, not noticing the cat's behavior due to the deep consideration of the name she wanted to give it. "You like that, Bishop?" The kitten purred and rubbed his head against her leg. "I'll take that as a yes."

Erik crossed his arms and prepared to be thoroughly ignored by the pair for the rest of the ride, hoping Lenore would notice his sulking and pay him more attention. The trick failed miserably, and Erik found himself in a less than pleasant mood when they returned to the Opera House. _If I'm lucky, the siren will eat this annoying intruder before the week is out._

"Alright, a bath first," Lenore said firmly the moment they stepped through the front door. She proceeded to the bathroom, gesturing for Erik to follow.

After a half hour of loud pathetic mewing and severe cat scratches applied to Erik's person, the cat was finally rid of the layer of dirt it had been wearing. Erik doctored his cuts and changed out of his clothes (now soaked from the numerous times he'd caught the kitten as it tried to escape its bath) before going out into the drawing room. He shot the bedraggled, wet kitten a furious glare before returning to his sketch of the house he planned to have built for himself and Lenore.

Lenore had her "poor sweetheart" wrapped in a towel and cradled in her arms as she dried the monster off. "I'm sorry Bishop, but we had to get the dirt off," Lenore apologized. "Aww, you're just so cute."

"I hope you realize the animal is your responsibility," Erik informed her. "I refuse to care for it, except in the case of an emergency."

"Don't you like Bishop?" Lenore inquired innocently. "Besides, when I asked for him, I asked if 'we' could have a cat. So he's your cat too, and you have to take some responsibility."

"That cat doesn't like me, ma petite," Erik snarled. "Or maybe you were too busy fawning over your precious feline to notice."

"Nonsense, cats love you," Lenore countered. "Isn't that right, Bishop?" She rubbed noses with the little cat, giggling when he licked her nose with his small pink tongue.

"There is an exception to every rule, and this one is named Bishop," Erik snapped, thoughts of drowning the wretched animal plaguing his mind.

"What are you so grouchy about?" she asked.

"Nothing."

Lenore stared at him for a moment. "You're not jealous of the cat, are you?"

"That's absurd," Erik replied, though he was currently envisioning a plethora of excruciatingly painful deaths for the feline that purred contentedly in Lenore's hold.

"Of course it's absurd. Which is why you probably are. Men are so stupid sometimes," Lenore sighed.

"Regardless, the cat is yours, and I'll not lift a finger to take care of it," Erik said.

"No wonder Bishop doesn't like you; he's picking up the hostility you feel towards him," Lenore reasoned.

"The 'hostility' was nonexistent before the thing hissed at me. The cat displayed the hostility first, I'm merely responding accordingly."

"You're being cruel. Blaming Bishop for this. How can you?" Lenore defended the bundle of damp fluff.

"It's that damn tomcat of yours that started all this. Your sweet Bishop is nothing more than a home wrecker," Erik snarled, glaring at the offender.

Lenore glowered at Erik before hurling a small pillow at him. "He doesn't mean it, Bishop, he's just cranky because I like you. Better than I like him, at the moment," Lenore comforted her precious kitten, turning her back to Erik.

Erik didn't bother to continue arguing with her; until she learned the evil nature of her pet, she'd defend it to the bitter end. Instead, he busied himself with his sketch, letting architecture fill his mind so there was no room for anything else.

Erik finally set his pencil down and checked his pocket watch. _Three in the morning…she never said a word._ Lenore was fast asleep sitting on the couch, her miniature devil curled up in her lap, taking a nap of his own. _Perhaps I could throw that thing out the door and leave it to fend for itself…

* * *

_

Lenore woke up in the bed, stretching her arms as she yawned. She looked around for Bishop, but couldn't find him. Erik, on the other hand, was sitting at the desk, still sketching madly.

"Where's the cat?" she asked immediately.

"Good morning to you too, my love," Erik snapped, not even bothering to look up from his work.

"Erik, where's Bishop?" she demanded. Erik wouldn't murder a kitten…would he?

"Don't fret, he's fine," Erik replied carelessly. There was a scratch at the door and a pathetic mewing. "I won't have that flea-ridden beast on the furniture."

"You monster, shutting Bishop out of the room!" Lenore exclaimed, leaping out of bed and rushing to let the cat in. "Cats are sociable, they like company." The moment the door was opened, Bishop scampered into the room and began pleading to be picked up. Lenore complied, snuggling the poor kitten against her bosom. "Are you okay, honey? Honestly, Erik! He's just a kitten, how heartless can you be?"

"That's not a cat," Erik told her. "It's far too intelligent for your average feline."

"You're paranoid that the cat is going to take your place," Lenore argued. "Seriously, Erik, stop being jealous."

"I am not jealous!" Erik practically shouted.

"Idiot," Lenore mumbled. "C'mon Bishop, let's go get some breakfast." She walked to the small kitchen area and deposited her pet on the table while she retrieved a bowl. She knew Erik was close behind her, as she wasn't allowed out of his sight for more than five minutes as per the Circle's command. "What should I feed him? We don't have any milk or kitten chow…"

"I suggest arsenic," Erik replied, snatching up the kitten and setting it on the floor. "And it's not allowed on the table, counters, chairs, or sofa. He stays at floor level unless in your arms."

"Erik, you're being a jerk. Did you know that?" Lenore snapped. "I can understand not wanting him on the table or counters, but he should at least be allowed on the sofa or the bed. How would you like sitting and sleeping on the cold floor all the time? And if you so much as hint at killing my cat one more time, I'll never sleep with you again."

"And you accuse me of being vicious," Erik remarked unconcernedly, sitting down at the table while she went through the pantry in search of something for her little darling, who was currently rubbing against her ankles and purring for all he was worth.

"Do you have any worthwhile suggestions as to what I can give him?" she inquired, not finding anything she thought would be suitable. "Bishop's gotta be starving, and he's too skinny already as it is."

"Have your own breakfast, and we'll go out to pick up everything he'll require," Erik commanded.

"I thought you weren't going to lift a finger for him," Lenore reminded him.

"I'm doing myself a favor. If I don't see to it he has toys, I'm likely to find shoes chewed to pieces by a bored feline. A lack of a scratching post will lead to tattered upholstery. I suggest a collar as well, or else the siren might decide he's free game," Erik sighed.

"He's not going outside, so it doesn't really matter…" Lenore mused.

"That cat will be trained to relieve himself outside of this house; I won't have him defecating on the carpets."

"We could always get a litter box," Lenore pointed out. Then she realized that if Erik had ever had a cat, it was probably a very long time ago, back when they didn't have litter boxes and you had to train the cat to go outside. "Unless you want to train him, seeing as how I certainly don't know how to train him for that."

"I suppose I can bother myself to take care of that," Erik muttered. He stared at the cat intently for a moment, then sighed and sat back. "Done."

"What? You just stared at the cat, you didn't do"-

"Surely you realize the animal has a brain."

"Well yeah, but"-

"It's rather easy to rearrange a few things," Erik said.

"Oh. Well. Good job then," Lenore shrugged.

* * *

"The cat didn't need to accompany us," Erik said again as they walked down the street. He glared at the chocolate brown ball of fluff perched on Lenore's shoulder.

"Bishop's too young to be left home alone," Lenore argued. "Besides, if we're getting him a collar, we should have him along so we can make sure it looks good on him."

Erik dropped the subject; he didn't want to have this argument again. "As soon as we're done shopping for that wretched excuse for a cat, we'll visit your mother," Erik informed Lenore. A visit with Madam Parker would be like Heaven compared to sitting at home and watching Bishop obtain all of Lenore's attention.

"Visit my mom? Are you nuts?"

"I bought you that stupid cat, didn't I?" Erik snarled.

"You know, I don't like you like this," Lenore commented. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being ridiculous? I'm not the one fawning over the blasted feline, treating it as if it were my child," Erik replied. "If I had my way, we'd leave that thing at the closest animal shelter." Bishop looked at Erik with the classic I'm-just-a-poor-kitty enormous eyes and mewed as pathetically as possible. "Don't try that pathetic kitten stunt with me, it won't change my opinion of you, you little imp."

Lenore paused and Erik got a step ahead of her before realizing this. She delivered a swift kick to the back of his knee, which of course buckled, and there was a brief moment where Erik was certain he would hit the ground. Somehow, he managed to regain his balance, and he whipped around to glare at Lenore.

"Don't call my cat names," she growled, a dark look on her face.

Erik sighed angrily before turning and continuing down the street. His foul mood had him walking rather quickly, and Lenore had to run to keep up.

"You're going too fast," she complained after a few moments.

"Shut your mouth," Erik snapped. He was in no mood to deal with her stupid complaints right now.

"What's wrong with you?" Lenore inquired.

"I thought I told you to be quiet," he hissed, not even bothering to look at her. People were leaping out of his way frantically; he was a rather intimidating figure when angry.

"Since when do I ever listen to you?" she shot back. "Besides, I have every right to know what's got you so ticked off."

"Your goddamn cat, that's what," he replied. "Let's not forget about that kick, though, which rather hurt."

"That's it? You're upset because I kicked you and because of the cat? You're overreacting, take a chill pill or something."

Erik didn't respond; instead he picked up his pace. The sooner this outing was over with, the better.

"Erik! Slow down!" Lenore pleaded. She was practically tripping every other step in an effort to keep up with him. Erik paused long enough for her to catch up, then grabbed her wrist and dragged her along behind him. "You're cutting off circulation," she pointed out a few moments later.

"Do you think I care?" he spat.

"Not anymore," Lenore answered bitterly.

When they finally reached the pet shop Ember had recommended, Erik let go of her. She hurriedly removed her engagement ring then thrust it into his hand. "Don't worry about giving it back this time; I don't want it," Lenore informed him flatly, her face blank and her eyes full of danger.

Putting a pleasant smile on her face, she approached the clerk asking for help picking a suitable collar for Bishop. For his part, that cat was sitting on the counter, looking at Erik with what could have passed as a smirk.

Erik wasn't too concerned with her claim that she didn't want her engagement ring; she was angry at him now, but she'd get over it and then ask for the ring back, all shy and embarrassed, feeling bad for having lost her temper like that. _At least, I think she will. But what if she doesn't Erik? What then?_

_Then you force her to take it back, you idiot! No, that would only drive her further away. Use your voice in your favor, you fool. Sing to her and she'll fall at your feet begging for the ring and pleading for forgiveness for her foolishness._

Stuffing the ring in his pocket, he decided these thoughts were best saved for another day, if that day came at all. He walked over and stood next to her while the clerk tried to fit a collar around a playful Bishop's neck.

* * *

Lenore stood with Erik on the stoop of a small flat, silently praying her appearance wouldn't push her mother over the edge of sanity. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" she whispered softly.

"Jumping from the Eiffel Tower would be a better idea," Erik muttered in reply.

"Then what are we doing here?"

"Don't you think we've kept your presence a secret from her long enough?" Erik inquired. "Besides, I spend the holidays with your family, if you recall. I'd rather not spend Christmas listening to this shrew bitch and moan about how we didn't tell her and that I kept her daughter from her when you two have such a precious little amount of time left to spend together."

The door was finally opened a crack. "What do you want, you murderer?" Mrs. Parker hissed upon seeing Erik, not able to see Lenore from the small crack.

"To talk with you for a bit, Madam," Erik said politely. "May I come in?"

"Why should I let you in?"

"Madam, haven't you moved on yet?" Erik replied, starting to lose a bit of the politeness in his voice.

"It's your fault my daughter's dead, no sensible person "moves on" from that," Mrs. Parker snarled.

"Wait, she blames you for my heart stopping? You never told me that," Lenore blurted out before she could catch herself.

The door was wrenched open all the way, and Lenore barely recognized her own mother. _She's so old now._ Her mother's hair was completely gray, and her skin was wrinkled and shriveled with age. "My baby," her mother breathed, tears in her eyes.

_Oh hell, now she's going to bawl her eyes out and hang on to me for the rest of her life._

Mrs. Parker lunged for her daughter, but Erik yanked Lenore to the side. "Could we possibly do this inside?" he sighed. Without waiting for an answer, he dragged Lenore into the house and left Mrs. Parker to follow them.

After they were all seated in the living room, with Mrs. Parker clinging to Lenore and sobbing into her daughter's shoulder, Erik began explaining the whole thing, summarizing and leaving out any details he could. Bishop, not being able to perch on Lenore because of her mother, was currently sulking on Erik's lap. Erik ignored the kitten entirely.

"Mom, get off, this is embarrassing," Lenore mumbled, blushing profusely. Honestly! Why did her mother have to act so ridiculous? _I was only dead for like, two seconds before my soul moved on to Second Life. So I was gone for twenty one years. So what?_

"I'm never letting you go again," her mother wailed.

"Well, this is definitely going to make showering difficult," Lenore remarked.

"Not to mention sex," Erik added.

_You just had to say that in front of Mom…_

"You're not sleeping with him, are you?" Mrs. Parker demanded, immediately switching from relieved-to-see-her-daughter-alive mom to how-dare-you-that's-a-sin-didn't-I-raise-you-better-than-that mom.

"No, Mom," Lenore responded.

"We make love every waking moment," Erik said simultaneously.

"Lenore! You're moving in with me this instant. And you're going to church with me on Sunday, you've obviously been lacking God in your life," her mother said firmly.

"Mom, he's lying," Lenore protested.

"It doesn't matter; you shouldn't be living with him at all," Mrs. Parker replied sternly.

"Oh, what's he going to do? The worst that'll happen is that he annoys me to death with his melodramatic jealousy over the cat," Lenore pointed out.

"You're not married, it's not proper," Mrs. Parker snapped.

"Do you know how many people live together without being married these days? It happens all the time."

"And it's wrong and immoral."

"And I don't have a choice," Lenore muttered.

"What does that mean? Has he threatened you?"

"No, the Condemned Circle that he mentioned briefly in passing has threatened me," Lenore answered truthfully. "I get a beating if I leave his sight for more than five minutes, and if I tried to run away, I die."

"You just let me have a talk with them," Mrs. Parker said, a dangerous protective glint in her eye.

"I'm afraid we have to be leaving now," Erik said, standing up. Bishop sank his tiny claws into Erik's slacks to avoid falling, then proceeded to scale Erik's shirt to perch on his shoulder. Erik jerked Lenore out of her mother's arms and headed speedily for the door.

"You're not stealing my daughter away from me again!" Mrs. Parker contradicted, rushing after them with surprising speed for her age.

"As always, it has been a rather unpleasant visit," Erik commented, throwing Mrs. Parker a parting smile. "I simply dread the next one. Good day, Madam."

"That wasn't polite," Lenore commented in the taxi on the way back to the Opera House. Bishop had deserted Erik the moment Lenore was available for perching delight.

"Why waste good manners on that creature? I simply can't understand how you're related to that," Erik replied. There was a short pause. "How do you tolerate her?"

"Pretty much how I tolerate you. Realize there's no choice and just try to make the best of it," Lenore responded. Erik glowered, crossing his arms and obviously preparing to sulk. "You're ever so much fun," she remarked dryly.

"Glad you think so," he retorted.

"If you really really really hate Bishop that much, and don't mind if I'm utterly bored and depressed, I suppose we can put him up for adoption," Lenore finally said, hoping that Erik would apologize for his poor behavior and tell her the cat could stay.

"Good, let's do it as quickly as possible," Erik said, brightening.

"No way!" she argued. "You don't want me to be depressed, do you?"

"I'm certain I'll have no problem cheering you up," Erik replied, a suggestive smirk playing on his lips.

"We're not getting rid of the cat," Lenore said.

"You lied to me, chérie," Erik said darkly.

"You were supposed to apologize for making me upset and say the cat could stay, it's not my fault if you don't react correctly," Lenore snapped.

"So you would have me lie?"

"You should always tell a voman exactly vhat she vants to hear," the taxi driver contributed. "Even if eet means lying."

"You are not paid to converse with us; mind your own business," Erik snarled.

"At least he knows how to handle women," Lenore muttered, making sure it was loud enough to be heard.

"Forgive me, but I think I've handled you well enough before," Erik replied, his hand slipping between her legs and caressing her through her skirt.

Lenore gave a squeak of indecency, turning red. "Pervert," she hissed.

Bishop began hissing and spitting, trying to attack Erik's hand. "See? He's a monster," Erik claimed. "He positively hates me."

"I doubt it. Ember had this one friend whose dog attacked her partner when they had sex because he thought the guy was hurting her. So Bishop's probably"-

"The cat is not trying to keep you safe, he just hates me," Erik insisted.

"Nonsense, he sat on your lap at Mom's," Lenore pointed out.

"Only because we temporarily shared a common enemy."

"My mother is not an enemy."

"Every mother-in-law eez an enemy," the cab driver put in.

"We're not married," Lenore replied instantly.

"Apologies. You just bickered like a married couple, so I assumed…Getting married sometime soon?"

"When Hell freezes over," Lenore snapped.

"In January," Erik said at the same moment.

"I'm not marrying you if you get jealous over Bishop," Lenore informed Erik.

"You're betrothed to me; you don't have much choice in this matter," Erik reminded her.

"That's true. But I can choose whether or not I love you. And I'll hate you forever if you force me to marry you."

"Forever is an extremely long time, ma petite," Erik remarked. "I doubt you could manage to hate me that long."

"Care to make a wager on that?" Lenore suggested.

"How does ten million Euros sound?" Erik proposed.

"You can't possibly have that much money," Lenore argued. Of course, it was a defense mechanism; she didn't have that kind of money herself.

"I have hundreds of billions," Erik stated matter-of-factly.

"You're not serious."

"You can count it when we get home if you like," Erik shrugged.

"Damn you," she mumbled. _How can he be so rich? It's not fair. All he does is sit in the basement and compose music and paint, it's not like he has to earn his money. This totally sucks. Hiroshi wouldn't finance me if I wanted to leave Erik, there's virtually nothing left of my money from First Life and I couldn't access it even if there was, and I have no way of making any money so long as I'm with Erik. I swear, someone planned this. Someone sat down and thought it all out to make sure I'd be financially dependent on Erik, I just know it._

"Watch your language," Erik chided.

"F off," she replied, knowing full well that she couldn't be punished for saying the letter 'f'.

"Only on you, ma chouchoute," he smirked.

"I hate you with as much passion as archangels hate Satan," she muttered.

"That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"No, I'm not into thinking, that's your department. You and your logic."

"Must we all be forced to suffer just because you're menstruating?" Erik inquired.

"Shut up, I'm not PMSing, you bastard," she snarled. Thankfully, they had reached the Opera House just at that moment, so she was spared any reply Erik may have ready.

* * *

Erik watched Lenore feed Bishop before she plopped down on the couch in a huff.

"Stop being so difficult," he commanded, taking a seat next to her.

"As soon as you stop being a man," Lenore spat.

"You're acting like a child."

"Oh, and you haven't been doing the exact same thing?"

"That's not the point."

"Let's make it the point."

"I have not been acting like a child per say," Erik said.

"You're jealous of that cat, and you pout and sulk because I pay more attention to Bishop than I do to you. How is that not childish?" Lenore returned.

"I do not pout and sulk," Erik argued. "I brood."

"And I'm not acting childish. I'm just reacting in a manner that is unbecoming of a woman," she retorted.

"Regardless, you need to quit acting this way," Erik stated. He took the ring out of his pocket, holding it out for her.

"I thought I told you to keep it," she replied, folding her arms across her chest.

"So you have no desire to marry me whatsoever?" he asked guardedly.

"You hurt me today, and you didn't even care," she said softly.

Erik sighed. He'd lost his temper, and he shouldn't have. He should apologize, but… _It's her fault I got angry in the first place. _"You kicked me," he reminded her.

"That doesn't excuse anything," she informed him.

"You hurt me and didn't care. Isn't there some scripture along the lines of "Do unto others as you would have others do unto you"?" Erik replied.

"You don't have any place to be quoting scripture," she said loftily.

Erik liked that fiery spirit, but she was so upset with him right now, he doubted she'd go to bed with him.

"I won't apologize," Erik stated. "Just take your ring back and get over it."

"You keep the ring and get over it," Lenore countered.

Erik grabbed her and pressed his lips to hers, despite her squirms and protesting grunts. She was only making it more enjoyable for him, though he knew that wasn't her intention. He forced his tongue into her mouth, and she slowly began to cease her struggle. When she was practically limp from passion in his hold, he broke contact.

"You can't hide the fact that you want me, little one," he whispered in her ear. "Nor can you ignore it." He slipped the ring onto her finger as he nipped at her ear.

"You cheated," she accused. "You used passion, that's not fair."

"Nothing's ever fair. Besides, if you really hated me, you wouldn't have stopped resisting, no matter how much passion flooded you."

"Why can't I ever stay mad at you?" she complained as she leaned against his chest.

"Because you love me," Erik chuckled.

"I don't know why. You're cruel and annoying," Lenore said.

"Don't forget charming, handsome, genteel, and capable of pleasing you in ways no other man ever could."

"Arrogant, stubborn, possessive, domineering…"

"Accepting of you despite your nasty personality, a musical genius, a splendid painter, a skilled tailor…"

"Stop coming up with good qualities, I can't counter them all," she admitted.

"Wretched cat, lay off of me!" they heard a familiar voice shout in the kitchen area. Raghnall came out, trying to pry Bishop off of his leg.

"What do you want?" Erik sighed in annoyance.

"Well, it just so happens that we were planning a meeting of the Circle in January. However, Hiroshi said he can't attend, as you are marrying Lenore that month. Why was he the only one in the Circle to receive an invitation to this event?" Raghnall inquired, coming straight to the point.

"Because I don't like you," Erik answered honestly. "Hiroshi was only invited because he's giving the bride away."

"But we're your family. It's only proper to invite your family to your wedding," Raghnall said, taking a seat in the chair and giving up on freeing his leg of Bishop's teeth and claws.

"We're not having a large wedding," Erik informed him.

"Yes we are. I had Ember send out a few extra invitations…" Lenore declared.

"How many are a few?"

"Only about a hundred."

"Well, you won't mind if eight more people show up," Raghnall stated.

"I don't think her family should be meeting any of you," Erik snapped, preparing to tell Raghnall to go find something to study down in Hell and leave them be.

"Oh, but her family must be so fascinating! After all, they're related to her, and anyone related to a woman bold enough to strangle Satan must be just as interesting," Raghnall surmised.

Erik thought about it a moment. Raghnall would certainly find Madam Parker a handful…perhaps it would be worth it to have those two together in the same room.

"If I tell you you're not invited, you'll pretend you never heard me say it, won't you?" Erik said knowingly.

"I would be completely ignorant as to what you were speaking of," Raghnall beamed.

"Neither of us want you there," Lenore commented.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you say something?" Raghnall teased with a grin.

"Fine, you can come. Provided you promise not to go speaking of anything that isn't related to the mortal realm and swear to Satan that you won't turn anyone immortal. The last thing I want is one of her family members hanging around for eternity to annoy us," Erik finally said.

Raghnall cocked his head to the side, nodding as if someone was speaking to him. "Satan just inquired if he may come as well," Raghnall said.

"Well, there goes our wedding," Lenore mumbled.

"I think that would be a bit much," Erik told Raghnall.

"You can't forbid him from coming. He's already picked out a present," Raghnall explained.

"He can send it with one of you. Like a normal person," Lenore pointed out.

"Now why would he want to do that when he could deliver it in person?"

"Because he's unwanted. He's about as wanted as a tarantula sitting on my lap," Lenore snapped.

"Erik, does she like spiders?" Raghnall asked, making a pretense of trying to be secretive about this inquiry.

"She loves them about as much as Satan loves Michael," Erik chuckled.

"Oh. Well then, I suppose I can scratch a spider demon off the list of possible gifts…" Raghnall muttered, pulling out a scroll and opening it up, scanning down the list before finding what he was looking for and drawing a line through the entry.

"Look, Satan is not coming," Lenore said firmly. "We have to draw the line somewhere."

"My, what a vicious little beast you've got here," Raghnall remarked. Bishop was had spent the entire conversation shredding skin and spilling as much of Raghnall's blood as possible. "It makes him almost lovable."

"You're strange. He already is lovable; he's cute and fluffy, the very epitome of lovable," Lenore huffed.

Raghnall stared at Lenore as if she'd gone mad. "Vicious tendencies, fangs and claws, and intriguing behavior meriting study are the epitome of lovable," Raghnall informed her. "Don't you know anything, woman?"

"Okay, you've obviously been alive for far too long; it's affected your mind," Lenore muttered.

"You're just poorly educated. But I'll remedy that," Raghnall claimed. "We'll look at this from a more personal point of view. Keep in mind your definition of 'lovable' and mine as well. Now, which one does Erik fit into? He's most certainly not fluffy, and I wouldn't call him cute, but then I don't swing that way. On the other hand, vicious tendencies tend to dominate his behavior, and if he hadn't had Satan forbid it, I would study him for a good hundred years or more. Though I have a feeling even that wouldn't be enough time to learn everything. Seeing as how you find Erik lovable, and he fits my definition of the word, I must be right. End of lesson."

Lenore muttered bitterly in German, and Erik had the distinct feeling it was profanity.

"Oh, your precious kitty's done with this leg," Raghnall remarked as the cat transitioned to the leg that lacked claw marks and blood.

"Surely you have no reason to stick around," Erik said dismissively.

"Hmm, let me think." There was a short pause while Raghnall's eyes glazed over and he seemed to be in a different mental plane of existence. "Oh yes. I wanted to ask you something, Keeran," Raghnall beamed after a moment.

"And what is that?" Erik sighed, wondering what else Raghnall could possibly want.

"I was hoping to study your lovely little pet before you get married. Then perhaps a couple months later, I could study her yet again. I'm quite curious to see if marriage will change behavioral patterns…If it does, as per my theory, then I must observe her before these changes take place."

"Why don't you just ask Hiroshi whatever questions you have?" Lenore snapped, miffed at the word 'pet'.

_He could have at least put it subtly…_ "Yes, that seems like a splendid idea," Erik agreed with Lenore.

"Research results are never as precise as observation results," Raghnall whined. Bishop sank his teeth into Raghnall's calf muscle. "See? If Erik had told me this cat was vicious, I would be unable to determine what his definition of vicious is, much less how nasty the creature had to be for Erik to term it as such. But seeing the cat for myself, I know exactly how vicious it truly is.

"If you don't leave right now, I'll start biting you," Lenore threatened.

For his part, Raghnall quickly turned over the scroll with possible wedding gifts and scribbled down some notes on Lenore's behavior.

* * *

Lenore had warned him. He hadn't left, so she leapt off the sofa, scurrying over to the chair. True to her word, she bit Raghnall's arm as hard as she could, which managed to break skin. She spat out the blood that had seeped into her mouth and attacked another portion of his arm. Raghnall winced with pain, but he feverishly continued scribbling.

"Lenore!" Erik called sharply. It was obviously meant to stop her in her tracks, but she wasn't going to be distracted so easily. She had told this bastard to leave, and he wouldn't listen. She would look like a pushover if she hadn't followed through on her threat.

A moment later, Lenore was yanked back by the collar of her shirt. She glowered at Erik, who was keeping a death grip on her collar. "Let me go, I'm not finished with him," Lenore hissed.

"Raghnall, I apologize," Erik said.

"Oh, it's quite alright," Raghnall assured him. A Q-tip appeared in Raghnall's hand and he wiped it along the edge of one of the wounds she had created. "A saliva sample. I couldn't have dreamed of obtaining as much as this." Raghnall stood, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I must be going, I need to analyze this as quickly as possible." With that he disappeared.

"My cat," Lenore whimpered. For Bishop had still been attached to Raghnall when he returned to Hell, and the kitten had disappeared with him.

"You do realize that, had that been anyone other than Raghnall, you would have been punished for that," Erik stated. He wasn't leaving it open for her to say she hadn't thought about that.

"What about Bishop?" Lenore complained.

"Your poor, deserving fluff ball could chew off Raghnall's leg and the man wouldn't notice unless it affected his studying," Erik remarked.

"You have to save my cat," Lenore demanded.

"Why should I?"

"Because…you secretly love the kitty deep down and don't want it to suffer being separated from me, as it could prove traumatic to his mental health."

"I find Bishop's absence quite pleasant," Erik argued.

"But…but…my kitty!" Lenore sniffled, tears welling up in her eyes. Having Hiroshi as a father and finding him rather susceptible to tears, Lenore had perfected the art of crying on command, and this situation certainly called for it.

"I'm sure he'll return that feline at the wedding," Erik said nonchalantly.

"What if a demon kills Bishop?"

"Well…I'll pretend to feel bad about it," he replied.

_Here goes…you asked for it, Erik._

Dead kitties, dead kitties

Dead kitties aren't much fun

They don't come when you call.

They don't chase mice at all.

Dead kitties aren't much fun.

At that point, Lenore burst into tears, wailing as miserably and loudly as she could.

Erik pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time, then sat in his chair, occasionally looking at the watch while she continued to cry. After quite some time, her volume began to decrease, and eventually, when she could barely sustain an audible sob, she gave up.

"One hour, forty three minutes and twenty six seconds," Erik commented. "That must be a record of some kind."

Lenore scowled at him and dragged herself over to the sofa, dropping down onto it with a sniffle. She picked up one of the toys they'd bought for Bishop, giving a squeeze to make it squeak. She sniffled again, hugging the toy to her chest and curling up into a small ball to make herself look the picture of a helpless, vulnerable little girl drowning in grief.

Erik sighed heavily. "What would you reward me with if I retrieve that stupid animal?" he inquired.

"You're so selfish! You want a reward for ending my misery. Most people would be satisfied with knowing they made someone happy."

"That won't satisfy me," Erik shrugged.

"Selfish bastard," she mumbled.

"Didn't you establish that already?"

"Shut up, I hate you."

"I believe we've already proven that false today."

"Go to Hell."

"I'm not fetching that feline unless there's something in it for me."

Lenore chucked a pillow at Erik, but he managed to catch it before it hit him.

"Such a monster," a female voice commented behind Lenore. "Oh, not again! I swear, He just loves making me a woman when I come to Earth."

Lenore turned and saw Gabriel standing near the door, tossing his long blonde hair over his shoulder in annoyance. In his arms was her little Bishop. "My kitty!" she squealed, leaping over the back of the couch and rushing forward to take her tiny darling from the archangel.

"Uriel informed me Bishop had taken a little field trip to Hell," Gabriel said. "He didn't want you to get worried about him, so I went and picked him up for you. I don't think Raghnall even noticed I was there…"

"It was none of Uriel's concern," Erik snapped.

"Why didn't Uriel go get him?" Lenore asked, ignoring Erik entirely as she cuddled and comforted her cat.

"Uriel is limited to the realms of Earth and Heaven, except in the case of an angelic war," Gabriel explained. "Michael wouldn't set foot down there, Satan would have all his minions attack and, quite frankly, Michael can't take all of them at once. Raphael can't go, because he'd be defeated far too easily if he got into a fight. Raphael's strength is healing, not fighting. Remiel's at Jesus' house, I believe they were celebrating Christ's entrance into the mortal realm a month in advance. They find numerous occasions to celebrate, of course. Remiel just adores celebrations. Sariel's drilling the troops again; she wants to be ready should Satan make an attempt to invade Heaven. And Raguel is always in counsel concerning justice and harmony."

"Regardless, we didn't need your assistance," Erik grumbled.

"How is Uriel?" Lenore inquired, continuing to ignore Erik.

"Oh, he's doing better," Gabriel assured her. "He had another session with Raphael earlier this morning. If all goes as well as Raphael hopes, Uriel's wing will grow back in five hundred years."

"That's awful, I'm sorry," Lenore said sympathetically.

"What do you mean? Five hundred years is a remarkably quick recovery," Gabriel replied.

"Oh. Yay for him then," Lenore corrected.

"Will you kindly get out of my house, Gabriel?" Erik growled.

"So, how have you been?" Gabriel asked Lenore. "Uriel wants to know if that monster of yours has been treating you right."

"No, I'm fine. Though he wasn't going to get Bishop for me," Lenore responded. "I mean, is it too much to ask that he go get the cat?"

"I think not," Gabriel said, sounding scandalized at the thought that someone was going to leave a defenseless kitten at the mercies of Hell. "Even if he doesn't like the feline Uriel sent to you, he has no place leaving Bishop down there, it's absolutely dreadful. Not to mention how distraught you must have been with worry."

"I should have known Uriel planted it in our path," Erik muttered. "No wonder it hates me."

"But anyway, there's really not much going on in my life right now. I'm marrying Erik in January though. Do you want to come to the wedding?" Lenore offered.

"They are not coming to the wedding!" Erik protested, leaping up from his chair in anger.

"Your Condemned Circle is coming, why can't I have the archangels if I want?" Lenore argued.

"Do you have any idea how catastrophic it would be to have the archangels and the Circle in the same place at the same time?" Erik shouted. "We'll be lucky if your family and friends don't perish in the inevitable battle."

"You know, I just realized that I really haven't chosen any bridesmaids yet," Lenore said, choosing to ignore Erik's excellent point.

"I'm sure Sariel would adore being a bridesmaid," Gabriel smiled, knowing that Lenore was trying to change the subject and doing what he could to help.

"Isn't Sariel the Angel of Death?" Lenore inquired.

"That's true, but she doesn't come to Earth only to collect dead souls. She's down here occasionally for recreational purposes."

"Don't bother listening to me. I don't know anything about the hatred between the beings of Heaven and Hell," Erik complained bitterly at being ignored. "You're only going to start an epic battle at our wedding, but certainly that's of no concern. After all, what's a marriage ceremony without a little bloodshed?"

"Well, there's a fitting for dresses in two weeks, so if Sariel's interested, have her come down," Lenore said.

"I'll tell her," Gabriel promised. "I suppose I ought to be going; your monster's looking a bit angry and dejected. Have a nice day, pumpkin." With that, Gabriel vanished.

Lenore went back to the couch, giving Bishop his squeaky toy to play with and letting him down on the floor. "Well, that was a nice visit," she remarked.

"That was a nightmare," Erik contradicted. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I've most likely acquired a bridesmaid," Lenore replied.

"I refuse to create a gown for Sariel," Erik snarled. He was not only making Lenore's gown, but Ember's as well. (Ember was the matron of honor.)

"You want her to go naked?"

"No, but I don't intend to make a dress for her either."

"Well, she can't buy something in a store, nothing would match the gowns you're making."

* * *

Erik growled low in his throat again. The argument had gone on for ten hours before he finally conceded. He was sketching a gown for that loathed archangel while Lenore slept soundly in the bed, Bishop curled up next to her. Deciding the sketch could wait to be finished, he headed for the bed, wanting to hold Lenore in his arms in the attempt to make him feel better for yelling a good number of profanities and insults at her during their conflict over Sariel's gown.

The moment Erik reached the bedside, Bishop leapt to his feet, going up on his toes and arching his back. While spitting and hissing furiously, he puffed up his fur to look more intimidating.

"Damn archangels," Erik mumbled. Grabbing a pillow from the bed, he gently hit Bishop with it. "Shut up, you stupid cat, you'll wake her up." Dropping the pillow on the floor, Erik stretched out on the cold stone. _Curse Uriel, I can't even lay in the same bed as my future wife because of his mangy cat._

Erik was awoken in the morning when something hit him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. There was a frightful squeal.

"Erik, what are you doing on the floor?" Lenore asked. Her foot was hovering a few inches above his stomach; it seemed she had gone to step out of bed and managed to step on him instead.

"Bishop didn't want to share the bed," Erik snarled, getting to his feet. "Perhaps you should marry him and I'll be the pet."

"I don't think his collar would fit around your neck," Lenore replied.

"Oh, surely you'll have him take us out to buy me a new one, and some toys that will be to my liking, and suitable food," Erik retorted.

"You know, it's gonna be difficult for me to carry you to the kitchen for breakfast…" Lenore observed.

"Don't trouble yourself; I'll just scamper in and wait for you."

* * *

Lenore was coming seriously close to just slapping him. Erik had spent the entire morning playing the ruse that he was the pet and Bishop was the future husband. He refused to finish the sketch of Sariel's gown ("That's Bishop's job, we pets don't draw."), and most of the morning, he chased Bishop around the house, hissing at him and scaring her poor cat half to death.

As he chased Bishop through the drawing room yet again, Lenore decided to put an end to Erik shortening the lifespan of her cat by terrifying the poor dear. When he came past the sofa, she grabbed his arm and yanked him down onto to her lap. His landing was quite painful, as he weighed more than she did, but she'd deal with it.

"Erik, stop chasing my fiancée," she ordered, stroking his hair as if he truly were the pet.

He merely growled in response, squirming about to get off the couch and return his pursuit.

Lenore tightened her grip on him. "If you won't behave, I'll have to shut you in the bathroom for the afternoon."

"Let go," he snarled, squirming ineffectually in her embrace.

"No. You need to calm down, you're too excited," Lenore stated. "Maybe I should feed you, it is about lunchtime. And I'll have to give you a bath this evening, you've probably been in all sorts of dusty places when you were playing today."

Erik glared daggers at her. "I don't need you to feed me or give me a bath."

"If you act like a pet, I'll treat you like it," she replied sternly. "Are you done playing the part now, or do we need to continue this little exercise?"

Erik sighed angrily. "Fine," he conceded, ceasing his struggle to get loose. "I hate that cat. Can't we give it to Ember or perhaps Mark and Tori?"

"You know, if you apologized to Uriel, maybe he'd make the cat stop hating you," Lenore mused.

"There is nothing to apologize for," Erik replied, maintaining his position on her lap placidly.

"You cut off his wing!"

"Yes, well…He tried to run me through."

"But he didn't actually manage to," Lenore argued.

"Only because Raghnall stopped him; otherwise I'd be dead and you could be with your precious Uriel," Erik snarled.

"Be honest! You cut his wing off out of spite because you were jealous," Lenore declared.

"Jealous of nature boy? That's ridiculous," Erik said testily.

"Erik, get off of me," Lenore commanded.

"Why?"

"Two reasons. One, you're lying to me. Two, I can't feel my legs anymore."

Erik stood, crossing his arms. "Alright. Perhaps…when I saw him kissing you, I was…a bit…jealous. But only a slight bit!" Erik finally admitted.

"Only a slight bit?"

"I knew you wouldn't love him in the same way you do me," Erik claimed.

"Oh? Didn't you say something like "I do not suffer fools who dare to touch what is mine"? That sounds more than a slight bit jealous," Lenore commented. It was silent a few minutes, and finally Lenore sighed. "You're too stubborn to admit the truth to me."

"Fine!" Erik shouted angrily, his eyes conveying his anger. "I was insanely jealous! I was afraid you might show yourself to be another Christine, and leave me for some perfectly handsome and noble fop! Was it wrong of me to be concerned? No! If you ever had the only person you ever truly loved leave you for another, you'd have felt the same!"

"The only person you ever truly loved?" Lenore yelled back. "Thank you so much for letting me know where I stand, Erik!"

"I didn't mean it that way!"

"You don't say something you don't mean!"

"Do you honestly believe I don't love you?"

"Well, you're the one who said Christine was the only woman you ever really loved!"

"When you died, I held your cold body in my arms for four hours! I only let go because Hiroshi pried you out of my grasp! I sculpted an exquisite glass coffin for you and preserved your body all these years! I spent almost every waking moment in that tomb with you! I died with you, Lenore!"

_He died when Christine left him too…and if he truly loved her…_ "I'm sorry," Lenore apologized softly. "I didn't mean to…when you said…I just…I got jealous."

"Jealous of a woman who's been dead for one hundred and twenty years," Erik pointed out.

"You got jealous of the cat," she countered. "Besides, I don't want to worry that you loved her more than me, that's all. I don't want to constantly be reminded that there was someone before me. It makes me feel like I'm just second-best."

Erik took her in his arms, hugging her tightly. "Je t'aime, Lenore. More than I've ever loved another being in all my life," he whispered in her ear.

"More than you love yourself?"

"More than myself," he agreed. "Je t'aime mon amour, et je t'aimerai toujours."

"I don't know French, Erik," Lenore reminded him.

"It means "I love you, my darling, and I will love you forever"," Erik explained.

"Ich glaube demselben, meiner Liebe," Lenore replied.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't speak German."

"I feel the same, my love," she translated.

* * *

"Well, at least I've been referenced in this chapter," Ember sighed, clearly wanting to be more than referenced.

"Hush, muffin, cupcake's gone and caught another nasty cold. She doesn't need your complaints right now," Hiroshi chided, shooting a glare at the woman he had chained to the wall.

"In some ways, I'm almost glad that I released you in return for saving me from Ember's wrath," Tammy said. "Then again, I am somewhat disturbed by the fact that you're hovering at my side. It seems like you're just waiting for a chance to grope me…"

"Were you expecting him to serve you tea?" Erik asked, chuckling at the thought.

"No, I don't like tea…I equate tea with fire…"

"Yes, you really are quite pathetic," Erik remarked.

"Be nice to Tammy. Or else she'll do something perfectly dreadful to get her revenge!" Lenore warned.

"Oh, do continue taunting her Erik, it would make an excellent study," Raghnall pleaded while Uriel whimpered at the thought of Tammy and her ways of getting revenge.

"I should remove Uriel's gag," Tammy noted, preparing to get up and have a bit of fun with her archangel.

"Creampuff would love to hear from the readers, so please do review," Hiroshi addressed the audience.

"No! Bad immortal! No stealing the keyboard!" Tammy shouted. Her eyes widened in fear. "Hiroshi, put down that rope! If you don't put that rope down…what's that gleam in your eye? Don't come any closer….AGH!!!"


	38. Chapter 38

Lady Taevyn: You said the inmates were taking over the asylum…you have no idea…

MJ MOD: I'm sure the conservative culture of the era is what led to the lack of education of angels' ability to have sex. And yes, Jesus is a party animal. At least, that's what Tammy managed to sexually harass out of Uriel. She's attempting to look appropriately ashamed for harassing an archangel.

Lethia: Yes, the dead kitty song had to be worked in somehow. Yes, you can come to the wedding. And if you'd like to make an invitation, maybe you should do that and I, Hiroshi, will see to it that Tammy posts it for the wedding chapter. It would be delightful.

iluvmyphantom: Bishop did scratch Erik, but you can't really blame Bishop for that, as he was getting a bath at the time. Cats don't like being bathed. Tammy says "I had my person severely mauled when bathing a cat once, so trust me cuz I know what I'm talking about. That cat was about four months old and I holding it at arm's length…don't know how it got to my shoulder, but it did, and my one shoulder ended up shredded." She's sorry that you didn't like Lenore kicking Erik, but Lenore's very defensive about her cat, some people get that way about their pets. As to how she manages to update really fast…she has no idea how she does it either. It seems to all of us here who speak with you in the review reminder like it takes forever for Tammy to write a chapter and post it. Obviously her ideas are flowing much faster into Word then we all think.

Artzee: You got stolen by Raghnall? But you said you had fun with him, so I'm glad he found some way to entertain you. I never really knew he was into abducting mortal women. It seems we have more in common than I originally thought.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Bishop was currently hiding under the chair with his squeaky fish toy. He was capable of thinking on the same level as humans, thanks to that nice man Uriel. And what he saw right now did not make him happy. His human was kissing the bad man Uriel had warned Bishop against. It was dangerous, that bad man might hurt her. Didn't she know that?

Originally, Bishop had felt extremely bad about hissing at the bad man. For some strange reason he couldn't explain, he liked the bad man very much. He wanted to be nice but…Uriel was worried about Bishop's human, so Bishop hated the bad man merely for that purpose. He did want to like the man, because instinct told him to…

However, Bishop's little mind was beginning to see what Uriel meant when he called this man bad. The man had shut Bishop out of the bedroom the other night, leaving him all by himself with no toys to amuse him. And then the man had hurt Bishop's human in the street, holding onto her too tightly and walking too fast. He had hit Bishop with a pillow last night. (Granted, it was only a pillow, but it was the intentions behind the action that Bishop didn't like.) The bad man had chased Bishop around the house this morning, and Bishop felt very much like a cat being pursued by a much larger, vicious dog. And just now, the bad man had been yelling at the girl.

And there she stood kissing the man!

Bishop realized this situation called for drastic measures. Dropping his squeaky fish (aptly named Fishy, he was quite proud of the name he'd come up with), he prepared to fly out from his hiding place and do battle.

* * *

Erik jerked away from Lenore, cursing loudly and severely in his native French. He looked down and saw Bishop had latched onto his leg with teeth and claws fully extended.

"Bishop! Stop that!" Lenore shrieked, grabbing her cat and pulling him off of Erik. Bishop took a good bit of Erik's flesh with him, not giving up until he was more than four feet out of reach.

"I told you, the cat hates me," Erik snarled, glaring at the animal as he rolled up the leg of his slacks to check the damage.

"I'm really sorry, Erik, I never thought he'd do anything like that," Lenore said sincerely. "I don't want to give him up or have to put him down, but if he's gonna attack people…"

"He's not attacking people, just me," Erik mumbled.

"Well, he did attack Raghnall too," Lenore pointed out.

"If I could get away with it, I'd attack Raghnall," Erik replied.

"Maybe he just doesn't like immortals," Lenore suggested.

"Perhaps, and seeing as how you'll be spending the rest of your life with one, that might be a problem," he informed her.

"Awww," Lenore suddenly cooed, and Erik's head whipped up. Bishop was playing the pathetic, helpless kitten card, looking at her with yellow eyes as wide as they could go and his whiskers drooping. "Erik, he's just sooo cute!"

"Indeed, that's how cats get away with their ridiculous behavior," he grumbled.

"Oh, Erik, he's purring," Lenore said, already willing to forgive her kitten's transgression.

_Damn you, you ferocious, foxy feline!

* * *

_

Lenore was currently in a nice, hot bubble bath. Bishop was standing on the rim of the tub, trying to decide whether or not the bubbles would be fun to play with. Erik was leaning against the wall, watching her bathe and occasionally glaring at the cat.

Finally deciding the bubbles would be good for entertainment, Bishop leaned in a bit, stretching out a paw to bat at them. He had only taken a few swings before his paws started to slip off the rim. He fell into the tub with a splash that landed bubbles in Lenore's eyes, forcing her to close them from the stinging pain. Frantic mewing and thrashing caught her attention, but she couldn't see to get her kitten out of the water to safety. She began frantically wiping the bubbles out of her eyes.

The thrashing ceased, and she heard a mass of water dripping from the drenched cat, who was still frantically meowing his lungs out. Finally managing to open her eyes, she saw Erik standing next to the tub, Bishop wrapped in a large white towel in his arms. Bishop shivered, not exactly thrilled to be wet.

"You saved him!" Lenore exclaimed in shock.

"So I did," Erik said casually.

"But you hate him!"

"Well, I can't stand to see an animal suffer."

"I knew it!" Lenore proclaimed. "You're not a mean person at all. All those tough words and murderous actions are to cover the nice, sensitive, caring man underneath."

"There is nothing nice, sensitive, or caring about murder, ma chérie," Erik informed her.

"Well duh! Otherwise it wouldn't be a good cover for your true nature. Face it Erik, you're not as badass as you pretend to be."

"Would you kindly finish bathing so you can take care of your cat?"

"Unspoken denial…" Lenore said softly, just loud enough for Erik to catch it. Though she knew he wouldn't respond that; anything he said would be a lie. When she finished bathing about fifteen minutes later, she slipped on a bathrobe and reached for Bishop. The cat shrank back into the towel, still trembling. "Erik, I think he wants to stay with you."

"Whatever makes you think that? It hates me," Erik replied. He shoved the bundled kitten into her arms.

"I know but…I still think he wanted to stay with you. Maybe he likes you now since you saved him," Lenore suggested as they walked out to the drawing room.

"I give it five minutes," Erik retorted.

"You're so optimistic, it's sickening," Lenore returned. She sat down on the sofa to towel off Bishop while Erik sat in his chair, obviously struggling not to sulk over the fact that Lenore was paying attention to the kitten again. "Why don't you come sit beside me? There's enough room for both of us on the sofa."

"I think that drowned rat would take exception to my presence," Erik pointed out.

"Well, let's find out."

"I'd rather not get mauled again."

"Just come over here!"

"You enjoy it, don't you? You enjoy the animosity between Bishop and myself," Erik accused.

"Stop with the big words and ridiculous ideas and get your butt over here. Or I'll never kiss you again!" she threatened.

"Vicious wench," she heard him mumble as he all but stomped over to couch before dropping down beside her and crossing his arms, glaring straight ahead.

* * *

Bishop squirmed out of the towel and made a dash for the bad man's lap. The bad man had saved him from the big puddle that had tried to kill him, luring him in with sparkly floaty balls that broke at his touch. He perched on the bad man's legs, trembling. He was so cold, all because of that stupid big puddle of doom. _Never again! No more sparkly floaty breaky balls for me!_

"I told you," Bishop's human proclaimed.

"He doesn't like me. I'm sure it's all part of an intricate plot designed to trick me," the man replied.

"He's a cat, cats don't spend time devising intricate plots to trick people."

"He's not a cat; he's an angelically blessed being."

"He's still a cat, that doesn't change what he is," the girl argued.

"If I didn't know it had a connection with an archangel, I'd take this ball of fluff for a demon," the man retorted. "Your cat's getting my slacks wet."

Bishop's human simply held out the towel for the man to take with a smug smirk on her face. "He likes you."

The man took the towel, scowling severely as he began to pick up where Bishop's human left off in drying him.

* * *

Erik was rather surprised by Bishop's change of heart. The cat spent the evening on his lap, purring whenever Erik chanced petting the beast. Who knew the cat could be so gentle? And naturally, Lenore wouldn't stop rubbing it in. It seemed every other sentence subtly hinted at the fact that she'd told him so.

When Erik sent Lenore into the bedroom to get ready for bed (promising he'd be along in a minute, as he wanted to tidy things up a bit), Bishop went with her. _Oh, splendid. Another night of sleeping on the floor. _At least this would prove to Lenore that the cat still hated him.

When he went into the bedroom, Lenore was already in bed, Bishop curled up in the very center with that annoying squeaking fish clamped firmly in his jaws. Erik changed into sleepwear and proceeded to do all the little things he normally did before bed. He approached the bed, prepared to tell Lenore he told her so when the cat hissed at him.

Bishop merely lay there placidly, his tail flicking back and forth occasionally, as if he could care less that Erik was going to lay in the bed.

"You're positively rotten," Erik snarled at the cat. In some ways, it was far worse to be allowed in the same bed with Lenore than sleeping on the floor, to have the cat lying in the middle, which meant there would always be a distance the width of the cat between Lenore and himself.

"Did you get the sketch of Sariel's gown done yet?" Lenore yawned.

"Delightfully, no," Erik replied.

"Fittings are in two weeks, you'll need to have it done soon," she commented.

"Why must you have a bridesmaid?" Erik inquired. "You have Ember, surely that's enough."

"If I had my way, I'd have quite a procession of bridesmaids," Lenore responded.

"May I remind you that I have no groomsmen?" he pointed out. "I only require the best man."

"Well, can't you pick someone from the Circle to be a groomsman?" she sighed.

"I absolutely refuse," he informed her. "I'll not have those damned bastards in our wedding. I only granted them permission to come because if I hadn't, they'd come anyway. I felt it would be better than having them crash our marriage ceremony, as they would then do everything in their power to make it as miserable as possible because I'd neglected to invite them."

"Well…maybe you should think about the opposite of the Circle then."

"You mean have an archangel as a groomsman?"

"Why not?" Lenore shrugged.

"We're not having Uriel"-

"I never said it had to be Uriel," she interrupted. "You could have Raphael, he's very nice. Or Remiel, he seems like a really cheerful person." She paused. "And there's Gabriel, if he appears as a man. God might make him a woman that day though. Oh, and Michael."

"It's entirely out of the question."

"How about one of my brothers then?" Lenore thought about it for a moment. "Or both; then I could have another bridesmaid."

"I suppose I could live with that," Erik consented.

"Good, cuz I was prepared to bicker over that one as long as it took you to agree," she giggled. "And don't forget to have Lucinda's sketch done, we need our flower girl."

"No wonder men hate to commit; weddings are such a bother," Erik muttered.

* * *

"Lucinda, drop that cat or you won't be allowed to watch tv for the next billion years of your life," Kathleen called. Her youngest daughter was currently down in the laundry room, and, from the sounds of it, was experimenting to determine the results of putting one of the cats into the dryer while it was running. Kathleen turned from the dishes in the sink to see the cat come tearing out of the basement and running for cover in the living room.

Lucinda appeared at the top of the stairs. "I wasn't doing anything," she claimed.

"Why don't you go get on your shoes? It's almost to leave for our dress fitting," Kathleen told the girl.

"UNCLE ERIK!" Lucinda crowed happily, running off to locate her shoes so she could go visit Erik. (Kathleen was delighted that the girl had finally learned to pronounce 'r's properly.)

Lucinda bounced up and down excitedly in the cab, unable to sit still. After all, they were used to seeing Erik only on Christmas (though they received gifts from him on their birthdays, and cards on holidays). When they stepped out of the taxi at the Opera House, Lucinda ran inside while Kathleen hurriedly paid the driver.

"…a pretty dress! And I get to have flowers!" Lucinda was excitedly telling Ember when Kathleen finally caught up with her daughter in the entrance hall.

"I get a pretty dress and flowers too," Ember informed the little girl.

"But my dress'll be prettier, Uncle Erik likes me best!" Lucinda proclaimed.

"Ready Kathleen?" Ember inquired.

"As ready as I can be," Kathleen sighed.

"I know, it's hard," Ember sympathized. "To see her looking as if no time's passed whatsoever…"

"To see him looking as if no time's passed whatsoever," Kathleen added. "Do you think she'll ever become immortal? I mean, how could you possibly survive a marriage where you know your spouse isn't going to age or die, yet you will?"

"I don't know. Maybe she's already thought it out and decided she loves him enough that it won't matter that he stays young while she grows old," Ember said, though it was plain in her voice that she didn't believe her own words.

The journey down to the house by the lake was far from silent, but all the talking was done by Lucinda, who was continuously speculating on how beautiful her dress would be.

"Ember, Kathleen! Hi!" Lenore squealed excitedly when Erik let them in the house, rushing forward to hug them.

"Kitty!" Lucinda exclaimed, running to the cat curled up in front of the fireplace. The chocolate brown kitten sprang into action upon seeing the child rushing for it, hurrying over to Erik and hiding behind him, obviously looking to him for protection. When Lucinda got within arms' reach, Erik scooped her up.

"Have you come to see me or the cat?" he inquired, pretending to be hurt at the thought that she might want to see the cat more than him.

"I'm glad you guys are here, now we're just waiting on Sariel," Lenore remarked, leading the two women over to the sofa.

"Who?" Kathleen asked.

"Sariel, you don't know her. Actually, I've never met her myself, but Gabriel recommended her, and she sent a dove down the other day saying she'd be here," Lenore explained.

…_Lenore, do you have any idea what you're getting into? I'm worried about you. I don't know why, but I am. Something tells me that this is a huge decision you're making, by marrying Erik.

* * *

_

Lenore felt a sort of tension, sitting between her sister and best friend on the sofa. _Things aren't the same anymore. I missed too much…_

Suddenly, a young woman stepped out of the fireplace. "Alright, we must be quick about this, I can't be gone too long. You never know when Lucifer will attack. He's probably drooling over the fact that I'm not there right now, this might be just the opportunity he's been looking for," the woman said in a somewhat deeper voice than most women had. Her black hair fell just past her shoulders, and her eyes were a golden color that shone in the candlelight.

"Did she just"- Ember began.

"Step out of the"- Kathleen continued Ember's thought.

"You must be a witch!" Lucinda proclaimed. "You used floo powder, right? Mommy reads me Harry Potter all the time, I know you got to be a witch!"

"I'm Sariel, an angel," the woman replied. "The Angel of Death to be precise."

"Nuh uh," Lucinda argued. "If you're an angel, where are your wings?"

"They're tucked away in my back," Sariel replied matter-of-factly. "That fireplace certainly wouldn't have accommodated them. Besides, I only have them out when I'm collecting souls or drilling the troops."

"You're lying, you don't have wings," Lucinda contradicted. "You's a witch, I know it."

"She's really an angel, Lucinda," Erik told the girl. "I know that beyond the shadow of a doubt."

"But she"-

"I've seen her wings," Erik replied. "It's been many years, but I've seen them. So you shouldn't go on calling her a witch and a liar. What would God think of that, hm?"

"I'm sorry," Lucinda apologized to Sariel, looking quite sincere about it. "If Uncle Erik says you're an angel, then you have to be. Uncle Erik doesn't lie."

"Lucinda…Lucinda Parker, correct?" Sariel said after a moment. "A friend of mine wanted me to ask you to stop trying to shave the cats or put them in the dryer. It scares them, you see."

"Oh," Lucinda pouted. "I spose I can…"

"That's a good girl," Sariel praised. "Uriel will be delighted to hear that." Sariel reached into a pouch attached to her sword belt, rifling through, muttering something about what he'd do if she lost it. "Ah! There it is. Speaking of Uriel, he wanted me to give you this, Lenore."

The archangel handed her a necklace with a black cameo of a raven and a sealed scroll. _Why a raven?_ Lenore opened the scroll, reading through the letter.

Dearest Lenore,

I am somewhat saddened by your decision to marry Keeran, to be quite honest. However, I know this decision is yours to make, and I wish you nothing but happiness with him. I shall come to the wedding, unless you wish me not to. Please inform Sariel on the issue of whether or not you wish me to attend.

Many years ago, I inspired a man to write a poem based on a strong feeling I had that I couldn't describe. Though I left the majority of his poem to his interpretation of the feelings I had, I insisted a few lines be written in my own words, words that (at that time) made no sense to me whatsoever. I now believe God was giving me a forewarning of how my involvement with you would end, in such a painful fashion and leaving me worried about your fate. The lines of the poem that I myself wrote are as follows:

By that Heaven that bends above us – by that God we both adore –

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore –

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore?

I'm sure you know the next line, and it pertains quite well to our situation, I believe. Thus, if you choose to wear the necklace and he takes offense, tell him that it means we can be together nevermore.

Deepest affections,

Uriel

"Nevermore," Lenore whispered softly, staring at the scroll for a brief moment before rolling it up and putting the necklace on. Erik tensed visibly, but obviously had no desire to discuss her action in current company. "Tell Uriel I'd love for him to come to the wedding," she informed Sariel.

"Well, let's get this done with," Sariel sighed. "I haven't all day, Keeran. I have duties to attend to."

* * *

The door opened and a small girl peered out before screaming at the top of her lungs and slamming the door shut in his face. Hiroshi shook his head and opened the door, walking into Erik's abode in time to hear the girl say, "…a man with scary eyes!"

"Well that's what you get for opening Uncle Erik's front door," the woman who was obviously the girl's mother said. "Now you know why you should never answer the door by yourself."

"Hiroshi, do you have to frighten small children?" Erik inquired from his chair in front of the fireplace.

"It wasn't intentional, just a nice little bonus," Hiroshi replied.

"What are you doing here, Father Ripper?" Lenore asked, sitting on the sofa with Ember and the woman who was now holding the girl on her lap.

"It's terribly rude not to introduce me to your companions," Hiroshi informed her.

"This is my sister-in-law, Kathleen Parker, and her daughter Lucinda, whom you've already met and scared half to death," Lenore introduced the two females he was unacquainted with. "Kathleen, this is Jack the Ripper, otherwise known as Hiroshi. There, done. Now tell us what you want and go."

"I was hoping that my daughter and future son-in-law might like to go to dinner with me tonight," Hiroshi said hopefully. He was rather bored in France, the only bright spots in his day being when he found another woman who would prove good for sexual pleasure before he killed her. He hadn't seen Erik and Lenore since the very end of July, so it had been more than three months now, and it would be nice to catch up with them.

"I'd rather have Raghnall study me," Lenore muttered.

"I could invite him to come along, if you like," Hiroshi offered.

"Only if I can borrow an archangel's sword for my protection," Lenore retorted.

"I wanna come!" Lucinda squealed excitedly, despite the fact that Hiroshi scared her.

"You know, it's a bit rude of you to invite Erik and Lenore to dinner in front of her family without inviting them too," Ember commented to Hiroshi, pretending to be caught up in examining her nails.

"I never said you couldn't tag along," Hiroshi pointed out in his defense.

"Well, that makes me feel welcome," Ember bit back sarcastically.

Hiroshi walked over to stand in front of her, bending down until his eyes were level with hers. "Muffin, I would be enchanted if you would accompany us," he told her, pressing a kiss to her lips. He pulled away when her hand connected with the side of his face.

"I'm married, jackass," Ember snarled, glaring at him for having the audacity to kiss her.

"That's never stopped me before."

"Being his daughter isn't enough to stop him," Lenore grumbled bitterly.

"Don't feel left out, kitten, I still love you," Hiroshi consoled her, patting her head and placing a kiss on her forehead. "It would've been more involved, but I feel your master would take exception."

"I prefer the term fiancée to refer to Erik," Lenore snapped, adding her glare at Hiroshi to Ember's.

"I can see how you two are related. You both look so enticingly scrumptious when your feathers are ruffled," Hiroshi smiled.

"Pervert," Ember and Lenore declared simultaneously.

"You even think alike! How positively cute!" he practically squealed. "What I wouldn't give to have both of you in my bed at the same time."

"Mommy, what's a pervert?" Lucinda inquired.

"A very bad man with scary eyes who has very naughty sleepovers," Kathleen replied angrily, glaring at Hiroshi as well.

"I suppose you happen to be married as well, dumpling?" Hiroshi guessed. When Kathleen nodded, he sighed. "I don't suppose you're willing to have an affair then."

"Stop hitting on the members of my family, it's disturbing," Lenore growled.

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises in that regard. After all, your relatives are just so gorgeous, I can't help myself," Hiroshi said in an attempt to flatter himself back into the Parker family's good graces. He wasn't going to leave them an opportunity to inform him his flattery hadn't worked. "Now, I suggest anyone who has intentions of going to dinner should start getting ready. You'll want to change clothes; L'Astrance is rather…expensive."

"So you're letting my family come to dinner?" Lenore asked curiously.

"Of course, I wouldn't want your family to feel as if I'm shutting them out of your life. After all, being your father in Second Life, I'm practically related to them myself."

* * *

Oh, what he'd walked right into! "Alright ladies, get out your cell phones," Lenore grinned devilishly. "We wouldn't want the others to miss this, after all."

And so it was that they found themselves in L'Astrance an hour later, sitting at a long table with Jon and Kathleen, their children Lucinda, Sarah, Diego, Adrian, and Damien, Mark and Tori, their children Marcus and Olivia (who had brought her boyfriend, George, with various tattoos and multiple piercings along), Patrick and Ember, their children Teresa Rose, Onyx, and Cahal, and, annoyingly enough, the matriarch of the family, Mrs. Parker.

"I never realized your family was quite so large, kitten," Hiroshi remarked bitterly. He was paying for twenty one people to eat tonight, which would come to roughly 1575 Euros, which was pretty much the same sum in United States currency.

A loud 'thwack' sounded as Mrs. Parker's umbrella connected with Hiroshi's skull. "Don't call my daughter 'kitten'," she commanded imperiously.

"I'll call my daughter whatever I wish," he returned.

Lenore silently thanked God that she was seated between Erik and Hiroshi so that her mother wasn't directly beside her and therefore couldn't cling to her all night.

"She's my daughter, you idiot, you didn't give birth!" Mrs. Parker argued.

"I raised her from infancy!" Hiroshi challenged.

"Perhaps, to avoid causing in a scene in the restaurant, you could view her as a daughter to the both of you," Erik suggested.

"I suppose. So, for tonight at least, she's our daughter, Mrs. Parker," Hiroshi agreed.

"I certainly didn't conceive her with any help from you," Mrs. Parker snarled viciously at the poor immortal forced to have the woman sitting next to him due to her effort to get as close to Lenore as possible for this meal.

"And you certainly didn't help me raise the girl!" Hiroshi snapped back. "Where were you when she finger painted the fridge? Where were you when she shaved the cat? Where were you the day she broke the stained glass window running the full length of the east wall of the parlor when she threw the dictionary at that glorious masterpiece out of frustration that she didn't get the doll house she wanted for her birthday? Where were you when she graduated from Harvard with two Master's degrees? Here in Paris, moping about, that's where! In this life, she is my daughter, not yours."

"You shattered a stained glass window?" Erik asked Lenore in surprise.

"Well…I was rather upset. I wanted the dollhouse, and all I got was books for more private tutoring," Lenore explained. "So I took the dictionary I got, and threw it at the window to demonstrate my displeasure. The window was about ten feet high by about twenty five feet long, if I remember correctly."

Hiroshi and Mrs. Parker continued to bicker in the background.

"And what was the scene depicted by this window?" Erik prompted.

"A work of Boris Vallejo," Lenore said. "It was one of Hiroshi's favorite windows…"

"Is the name Boris Vallejo supposed to mean something to me?"

"Most people know exactly what you mean if you say Boris Vallejo. Basically, the guy's work is all erotic fantasy."

"You grew up with erotic fantasy art in your home?" Erik said incredulously.

"Yeah. The window depicted a rather scantily clad woman holding a length of chain with New York City in the background. I saw pictures of naked women all the time, Hiroshi has loads of that kind of thing on the walls," Lenore shrugged.

"That's entirely disturbing," Erik grumbled. "You were a child, you shouldn't have being seeing such things."

"Well, it's not really that awful. I mean, it's not like I was never going to see a naked woman in my life. I see a naked woman every time I get dressed," Lenore pointed out.

"That is not my complaint. My complaint is that it was erotic. You were too young for that sort of thing," Erik explained.

"Yeah, the picture in the north hall where the demon guy had the naked girl in his arms and his hand was on her butt did kinda creep me out a bit," Lenore admitted.

* * *

"Excuse me for a moment," Erik dismissed himself to the table in general. Rising, he walked over behind Hiroshi and Mrs. Parker. Grabbing the collars of their shirts, he yanked them both up and dragged them off to a quiet and semi-dark corner of the restaurant.

"You scoundrel, let go!" Mrs. Parker snapped angrily.

"The two of you will cease bickering or else I'll see to it that you both suffer greatly," Erik threatened. "As much as we all detest it, Mrs. Parker, Hiroshi is a member of this family. Lenore sees him as a father, even if he has no biological relation to her. She's hiding it rather well, but it upsets Lenore to have you two bickering over who is or is not a parent to her."

"She started it," Hiroshi said defensively, pouting like child and scowling at Mrs. Parker.

"I have no concern over who started it; I'm finishing it," Erik snarled. "If my threats are not sufficient to halt this idiotic quarrel, then perhaps Lenore's feelings are enough. It means the world to her that you accept each other. I don't wish to see her crying over your inability to get along. I'll not have you two ruining our wedding in such a fashion."

The two were silent for a moment, looking anywhere but at each other. "I suppose I can put aside my dislike for this old hag for Lenore's sake," Hiroshi finally broke the silence. "At least until the wedding's over. Truce, Mrs. Parker?"

"Only for Lenore," the woman snapped back, still refusing to look at Hiroshi.

"Mrs. Parker, you may return to the table," Erik said, letting go of her. "Don't even attempt to take one of our seats, or else we'll have another chat." As soon as Mrs. Parker was out of earshot, Erik began. "What kind of perverted bastard are you? Erotic fantasy art in plain sight with a child in the house!"

"It was tasteful art," Hiroshi replied.

"Naked women in suggestive poses are not tasteful!" Erik argued. "You're a deplorable father figure. I won't stand seeing such trash when we come to visit you, as Lenore is sure to want to visit occasionally. So if I inform you that we're dropping by, you'll take that garbage down and put it out of sight."

"Yes sir," Hiroshi said, giving a mock salute.

Erik released him and returned to the table with that damn immortal.

"You know, we're going to have an absolutely splendid reception after the wedding," Lenore remarked dryly, gesturing to Hiroshi and Mrs. Parker, who were quite pointedly ignoring each other.

"Don't worry chérie, I'm sure they'll make an effort to be friendly for appearance's sake," Erik replied loudly enough for the two to hear.

"Hey, guess what I just realized?" Ember piped up for farther down the table. "In the U.S., it's Thanksgiving today."

"Your point, muffin?" Hiroshi asked disinterestedly.

"Well, the whole family's together for dinner, just like the old days," Ember replied. "And we've got some new members too," she added, looking at the children around the table, those who had married into the family, Erik, and Hiroshi.

"Oh, don't revive that old tradition," Mark groaned.

"Too late. We're going to go around the table and everyone is going to think of something they're thankful for," Ember informed him. "Since Mark's so eager, we'll let him start."

"I'm thankful for all the years that old tradition remained dead and buried," Mark said. "And I long for those days to return."

It continued around the table, the adults coming up with meaningful things to be thankful for, while the children were thankful for toys or books or games. (Olivia's boyfriend George stated quite firmly that he was thankful for sex, which earned him a dark glare from Mark and Tori.)

"Well, I agree with George, it's good to be thankful for sex," Hiroshi said when his turn came. "But I'm also thankful for the inability of the police to find the murderer responsible for the recent killings of all those women who are found in the Bois."

Lenore shook her head in embarrassment. "Let's see, what I am thankful for?" she sighed. "Certainly not Hiroshi." She rested her chin on her hand, obviously deep in thought. "What am I thankful?" she mumbled.

"Come on," Ember prompted when Lenore had been silent for about a minute.

"This isn't Jeopardy, there's no limit on how long I have to answer," Lenore replied. "Oh, I've got it! I'm thankful that we're all together, despite how dysfunctional a family we happen to be."

Erik realized everyone had turned their eyes to him. "I am not a member of this family as of yet; thus, I am not required to participate in this little tradition of yours," he said casually.

"But George participated," Olivia pointed out.

"If your…suitor chooses to contribute his vulgar statement of what he is grateful for, that is his business. I, however, choose not to contribute," Erik retaliated.

"You should play the game too, Uncle Erik," Lucinda whined, sitting on his other side and staring up at him with pleading eyes. Naturally the child would think this was a game.

"Yeah, come on, Erik," Lenore added. "Isn't there anything you're thankful for?"

"I'm thankful that I don't have to interact with this family that often," he muttered.

"Take this seriously, Erik," Lenore chided.

"Why should I?"

"Because I'm asking you to. And we won't leave you alone until we get a serious answer," Lenore replied with a malicious smirk.

Erik sighed heavily. The one thing he had to be thankful for was none of their business, nor did he want to share it in front of them. But if Ember and Lenore were any indication of this family's stubborn nature, he knew he would have to answer them seriously at some point.

"I am thankful for…" he began, pausing for a brief moment. It was hard to say, especially in front of the Parker clan.

"Go on," Kathleen urged.

"I am thankful for…a sassy, stubborn, disobedient young woman who found darkness enthralling. A young woman who sees society for what it truly is, and understands its cruelties as I do. A young woman who sees light where there is only darkness, who never stops hoping and never gives up on faith. She lives every day to the fullest, always saying what's on her mind because she knows life is too fragile to waste time in hiding her true thoughts. A young woman who showed me compassion is not as lost to the world as it seems, who gives her soul to me with every kiss. A young woman who saw past the monster to the man underneath, and said what no other woman ever could; that she loved me. For Lenore, I am truly thankful," he finally said. Each word he spoke had made it just a bit easier to continue.

"That was lovely," Hiroshi praised him. Erik finally dared to look up from his plate and saw that the women at the table were all dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs. Good Lord, women could be so overly sensitive sometimes.

"My turn!" Lucinda crowed. "I'm thankful for Uncle Erik, cuz he's making me a pretty dress to play wedding in January!"

* * *

"Dear me, Tammy's less than happy. Only five reviews for the last chapter. Must you all make her so depressed?" Hiroshi said.

"I never knew a human could squirm for quite so long," Raghnall muttered, taking notes as Tammy struggled against the bonds Hiroshi had placed upon her.

"I do so love having stolen the keyboard," Hiroshi sighed happily.

"You immortals are nuts," Lenore remarked. Thankfully, she had managed to get Uriel and Ember out of the review reminder and back into the safety of the story. She'd have gone back there herself, if Erik hadn't opted to stay and watch Tammy's struggles. It seemed Erik was somewhat perturbed with the authoress for the whole Lenore-Uriel thing though.

"Well, I suppose it'd be best to come right to the point; we would like some reviews, please," Hiroshi informed the audience. "And remember, we accept anonymous reviews."

"I'm quite looking forward to the next chapter," Erik commented. "It's going to be our wedding. The more reviews Tammy receives, the more willing she is to dictate the words to Hiroshi. So, if you desire to read about the wedding, I suggest you review."

"What do you mean 'if'?" Lenore asked worriedly. "Wait, you mean she won't dictate if she doesn't get a lot of reviews?"

"Weren't you listening to those shrieking protests she made before I applied to duct tape to her mouth?" Raghnall inquired, still taking notes.

"Obviously not," Lenore muttered. "Yeah, people, review. I want to have my wedding, damnit!"

"Watch your language!" Hiroshi chided.


	39. Chapter 39

Dear reviewers, please do remember that I, Hiroshi, have control of the keyboard…

MJ MOD: Erik made a fuss about the erotic art because he finds that to be junk, hence he doesn't want to have to see it when he visits me. Yes, Lenore knows Erik's sterile. However, she doesn't have to be an immortal to marry Erik. Tammy said that naturally I'm gross (which I take offense to), and yes, poor Bishop falling in the tub.

Kathie: Once again, someone claims I'm creepy…Glad you liked the chapter though.

Iluvmyphantom: Yes, being in Bishop's mind was cute and he won't bite Erik again. I'm glad you enjoyed the family tradition, and no regrets more than I that I didn't kill Mrs. Parker.

Lethia: I won't bother telling you Tammy's response to your review. And I seriously doubt that weak little mortal can do anything to hurt me.

Lady Taevyn: Unfortunately, we won't get to Erik and Lenore's wedding in this chapter. The story took an unexpected twist, due to the fact that I have the keyboard. But it's a rather long chapter, hopefully that will make up for it.

Athena: I'm glad you found the chapter entertaining. It's always wonderful to know we make people laugh.

Hannalucky: Well, I suppose it's good that this is the craziest story you've ever read…rather makes the story somewhat unique and special, doesn't it, Tammy? (Tammy squirms in her bonds, grumbling into the duct tape.)

Artzee: You know, I don't think Raghnall's thinking about you while the two of you make out. At least, not in the way you want him to. Knowing him, he's thinking about how interesting of a study you would make.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"They won't marry us, I just know it," Lenore complained bitterly as she pulled on a business casual outfit. 

"Must you be so negative?" Erik snapped back. Neither of the two was exactly in the best of spirits, as they were meeting with the priest today to discuss the marriage and obtain permission to be married in the Madeleine. Two hours after their meeting with the priest, the rehearsal would take place, and then the rehearsal dinner would be held in Sainte-Chapelle in the Paris courthouse (courtesy of Patrick).

"The Church doesn't like Catholics to marry non-Catholics, and they especially don't like it if the non-Catholic isn't baptized! And Hiroshi didn't have me baptized at all," Lenore pointed out. "Not to mention that you're an ex-Catholic."

"Well, they aren't privy to any of those facts. So as long as you don't mention it…"

"You want me to lie to a priest?"

"I never said you had to lie," Erik sighed.

"They're gonna ask. What am I supposed to do, just sit there and stare at them blankly?" Lenore inquired. "They're never going to approve this marriage."

"I can assure you it will be approved," Erik said with a knowing smirk. "I'm excellent at persuasion."

"You're not going to mess around with a priest's mind!" Lenore hissed.

"Of course not. I'm going to rearrange it," he replied. "Just a few tweaks and he won't even realize he never bothered to inquire as to your religion."

"You know, God's really gonna hate you for all this," Lenore muttered. "I mean, screwing over the Church, defiling the holy sacrament of marriage…"

"Or perhaps he'll be pleased that I'm going about this whole marriage thing properly."

"Ha ha. Let's go, or else we'll be late."

* * *

Erik was bored to tears. A two hour lecture on the importance and holy obligation of marriage was almost more than he could bear. Of course, it would've been a good deal shorter if Lenore hadn't constantly interrupted to ask questions. 

"…definitely not a problem with Erik, but what if the spouse turns out to be abusive? Is divorce okay in the eyes of God and the Church under that circumstance?" she was asking.

"The marriage can't possibly be holy if your spouse is intentionally hurting you," the priest replied. He was about to go into more detail, but Erik had had enough.

"Isn't it time for the rehearsal?" he inquired, glancing at his pocket watch as if he honestly didn't know the time.

"Oh, yes, right," the priest concurred after checking his own wristwatch.

"But I still have loads of questions," Lenore mumbled.

"Another time, darling," Erik said.

They left the priest's office and journeyed out to the sanctuary, where they found the wedding party waiting patiently, with very little conversation occurring due to the tension given off by Sariel and Hiroshi, who glared at each other and stood on opposite sides of the altar as far as they could get from one another.

"Let's begin, shall we?" the priest said, noting the tension but hoping that ignoring it and settling down to business could solve the problem. "Erik, you'll stand here, facing the back of the sanctuary as you await her entrance. Your best man stands to the left, and then the groomsmen in the proper order, which depends on the order of the bridesmaids' procession."

"Well, it'll be Sariel first, then Kathleen," Lenore offered helpfully. John took the position next to Darius, and Mark stood at the end of the line.

"Sariel. What a lovely name, my dear," the priest commented. "I didn't know any mother out there would have thought to name her daughter after an archangel."

"Oh, there was no mother," Sariel replied. "Just the Father."

The priest looked at her, somewhat baffled, and Erik struggled to hide his amusement.

"I don't have time for that," Sariel suddenly said. "Honestly, I'm trying to rehearse for her wedding, this isn't the time. Can't you keep him alive for another hour or so?" There was a brief pause. "Fine, fine. If you'll excuse me for a few minutes, Lenore, the Chinese president was just assassinated. I have a soul to pick up, and it seems it can't wait."

"Oh, sure, go right ahead," Lenore said with a shrug. Sariel disappeared before their eyes, returning moments later, hurriedly taking off the black robe of Death.

"Such a nuisance, really," Sariel sighed as the robe vanished. "They never believe you're the angel of Death unless you wear that ridiculous getup."

The priest's eyes had gone as wide as humanly possible and his mouth was hanging open.

"Don't worry, I'm not here for your soul or to deliver the wrath of God or some such," she assured him. "I'm simply here to rehearse for this wedding, nothing more."

"I think your holy awesomeness has intimidated him," Lenore remarked when the priest continued to stare.

A resounding thud echoed throughout the Madeleine as the priest dropped his Bible in his hurry to cross himself and bow his head, muttering about having been so disrespectful to an archangel.

"Do stop that, we're all so sick of you people averting your eyes and trembling with fear in our presence," Sariel informed the priest.

"Oh…yes…of course…whatever you wish, Archangel Sariel," the priest said, looking up but clearly avoiding resting his eyes on Sariel.

"Perhaps we should get on with the rehearsal," Sariel prompted. "The longer I'm gone from Heaven, the more likely it is Lucifer will attempt an invasion."

"Oh. Oh! Yes, yes, the ring bearer and the flower girl, I'll need those two to lead the bridal procession," the priest continued, looking extremely flustered.

Diego, Kathleen's youngest son, decided to inform everyone of his opinion of being the ring bearer at that point. "I don't want to escort Lucinda down the aisle, she's my sister."

Kathleen rounded on the eight year old boy. "If you want me to give you special privileges like the older children, you have to show me you're mature. Mature people escort their sisters down the aisle, if they've been asked to," she said firmly.

"Fine. Lucinda, get up here!" Diego commanded. When Lucinda didn't reply, everyone began looking around, noticing that the little girl wasn't hanging around. She was finally spotted near the far end of the building, playing with the dog of a blind man who was praying before a statue of the Virgin Mary.

Kathleen marched over, grabbed her daughter's hand and walked the child back, giving her a lecture about responsibility all the way.

"I'm sorry," Lucinda apologized. "But the puppy looked lonely."

* * *

"When you reach myself and Erik, the two of you kneel on the cushions. The cushions that aren't here now but will be tomorrow," the priest reminded Lenore. 

_So I had issues figuring out where to kneel. So what? I mean, he tells me to kneel on cushions, and then there are none. How was I supposed to know?_

"Then I give the greeting, then the Penitential Rite, which is followed by the opening prayer. This is followed by the liturgy. Now, Sariel has the First Reading, we hold a Responsorial Psalm, Mark has the Second Reading, then we have the Gospel Acclamation, Tori has the Gospel Reading after that, and I follow that with the Homily, at which point, the wedding party may be seated in the front row, except the bride and groom."

_And I didn't realize that Erik and I have to stay here, kneeling. So sue me for not knowing about a Catholic wedding._

"After the Homily, the wedding party returns to their positions and we begin the Rite of Marriage. I'll ask Erik three questions, then I ask you the same questions. After you've responded accordingly, I ask you to join hands. At this point, your father comes forward and places your hand in Erik's. As soon as he's back in his seat, Erik gives his vows, you give yours, and then we move to the blessing of the rings. Then we exchange the rings, and I give another prayer. Then comes the Mass, where the wedding party gets to return to their seats except the bride and groom, just so we're clear on who I mean by the wedding party."

_So I made the same mistake twice…_

"We'll have the Liturgy of the Eucharist, then the Communion Rite, and then we come to the end of this long ceremony. At this point, I give you one last blessing, then those in attendance will sing a hymn as the entire wedding party, including the bride and groom in this instance, will go over to the register in the sacristy and sign it, Erik and Lenore signing last as a couple for the civil declaration. You return to the cushions, but you aren't required to kneel this time, Lenore. The bride and groom seal the union with a kiss and I present them publicly as a couple. You walk back down the aisle, and after that, you get some pictures taken before you head on to your reception," the priest concluded. "It's really very simple."

_If it was simple, I wouldn't have had so many issues figuring out where to go and what to do._

"I recall the days when the bride and her father merely met the groom at a predetermined location, the father handed over the bride, the groom gave the father a few hundred sheep or goats or sometimes cows, and it was done," Sariel commented. "So much easier, really. I don't suppose you have any sheep or goats, do you, Erik?"

"I'm afraid not," Erik chuckled.

"Thank God, I really don't want to be traded for livestock," Lenore retorted.

* * *

Erik would have killed to get out of the rehearsal dinner. He was actually seriously considering arranging a way to kill off as many of the people present as possible. _How ironic that I plot mass homicide in a courthouse._

Lenore had invited every person who had come in from the States to the rehearsal dinner, telling him that manners dictated it. Apparently it was rude to leave out-of-town friends and relatives at loose ends in an unfamiliar city.

Her family was huge. He'd never known it was possible for one person to be related to so many other people. Five aunts and one uncle from her mother's side, their spouses and children, and their children's children (as the youngest of Lenore's cousins from her First Life were now ten years older then her) had been invited. From her father's side, there were three aunts and one uncle, their spouses, their children, and their children's children. Of course, this was all provided Erik remembered everyone. He'd been introduced to so many aunts, uncles, and cousins that he could hardly remember any of their names, let alone which side of the family they were from and exactly how they were related to Lenore.

Then there was her church family, a rather small group. It seemed they were a bit more easygoing than Mrs. Parker, and had merely inquired about whether or not he believed in God. Well, seeing as how he knew God existed, he'd told them he did. It didn't mean that he lived a godly life, but they hadn't asked that.

Her friends were another small group, and he knew a few of them from before, like Lily and Brad (who had obviously been quite productive in their lives, as they had nine children in tow and two more back in the States who had moved out on their own). There were certain friends he met that he disliked on the spot. Raye, for example, was one of those girls that you knew would be talking about you behind your back the moment the opportunity presented itself. And there was Christi, who Lenore had told him was the embodiment of Hell, as she knew how to annoy anyone into a nasty temper and was impossible to get rid of. Lenore claimed Christi was immortal, as Christi seemed incapable of being injured, and thus, incapable of being killed.

And Lenore had been lost among this tide of people she knew, talking with someone she hadn't seen for 'half of forever' and who wanted to catch up with her. He wasn't necessarily jealous that she wasn't hanging onto his arm, as that would mean he would be forced to either listen to and/or participate in all her conversations, but at the same time, he felt very much excluded.

Erik was standing by himself against the wall, watching all her relatives and friends interacting with one another. Hiroshi, so charismatic, had managed to initiate conversations with many of these people, and flitted from group to group.

Lenore appeared in the crowd for a brief moment, making her way over to someone else who wanted her attention and Erik's eyes tried to follow her, but she was quickly lost in the horde of mortals.

"You never knew, did you?" Ember said, having come up beside him without his noticing. "You never knew so many people liked her. Or that she liked so many people."

"She said she didn't trust anyone," Erik replied.

"She doesn't," Ember agreed. "Lenore is the best actress the world will ever know. Say a few words to her, and she'll know exactly the type of person you want to see in her. She'll be that person in front of you, and somehow, even if she's someone else to one of your friends, right in front of you, you'll never figure out that she's not who she wants you to see. What she doesn't understand is that people don't love her for who she is to them. They love her for the light she has inside, and if she could only trust them, she'd have more friends than anyone on this earth."

"Have you ever told her this?" Erik asked.

"No. She doesn't know I see it. She plays at being what she expects me to see, and if I let her know I can see through it, she'd be crushed," Ember informed him. "She likes to think that no one can really see her, that she can be anything so long as someone wants her to be it. If Lenore thought anyone could see who she really was, I think she'd die. She'd feel as if she let people down by not living up to their expectations of her."

"That's absurd; Lenore's always saying people need to rise above society's expectations," Erik argued.

"Of course she says that," Ember laughed. "She spent her whole life trying to live up to our parents' expectations, as well as those of anyone else who entered into her life. She wants approval and acceptance. But she talks about rising above society's expectations because she wants to be free to be herself more than anything, and she knows she'll never be able to. Everyone always talks about the one thing they want more than anything, even if they know they can never have it."

"She's the only obstacle in her path," Erik pointed out.

"I know," Ember whispered. "But you can't blame her for that. She's hidden behind a mask for so long; she doesn't know how to take it off anymore. She probably doesn't even realize she wears it."

"You don't ever forget that kind of thing," Erik contradicted.

"Unless you want to convince yourself that you aren't wearing one," Ember shrugged, walking back into the throng.

_Why would she hide like that? She knows she doesn't have to meet expectations, that it's ridiculous to shape oneself according to what others wish to see. Why do you insist on wearing so many different faces, my little one? Have you ever let me see your true face, or do you make believe for me as you do everyone else?_

"Hey, you're Erik, right?" It was Christi.

"That's correct."

"Sucks to be you, Lenore's a bitch," Christi commented good naturedly. "All she ever does is insult people and yell profanities. She hits anyone weaker than her, but you don't strike me as being weaker than her, so I guess you haven't seen that."

So apparently Lenore played a rather abusive and bitter person for Christi. "Oh?" he said casually, not really caring to hold a conversation and hoping Christi would go away.

"Yeah. She really doesn't like people. I didn't ever think she'd get married, she's way too obsessed with having a perfect man, which is impossible. Not to get down on you or anything, but…"

"That's rather not fascinating," Erik remarked dryly. Certainly Christi would take the hint and leave.

"You know, all the characters she liked in books and movies were manipulative bastards who were very dominating. And very possessive of their lovers," Christi continued. "Not really her fault, though, it's natural to want someone to control every aspect of your life when you hate making decisions like Lenore does. And wanting a possessive lover, well that stems from her need for protection, since she's so weak."

"What about the manipulative part?"

"Oh, I think that's mostly a pity thing. She wants everyone to pay attention to her, you know, feel sorry and stuff for her. Then she uses their sympathy to get what she wants from them," Christi explained. Spotting Lenore for a moment in the crowd, Christi screamed Lenore's name at the top of her lungs before bouncing off to go bother his soon to be wife.

_That girl isn't the embodiment of Hell; she's the spawn of Satan._ Erik's ears were stilling ringing from that deafening shriek the banshee known as Christi had produced. _Surely that thing is the antichrist._

"Having fun, Erik?" Hiroshi asked, dropping by for a quick chat.

"Watching Lenore french kiss Uriel would be more fun than this," Erik replied.

"Well maybe if you went around and started talking with people, it would be more enjoyable," Hiroshi suggested.

Erik snorted derisively.

"Fine, spend your night sulking on the wall," Hiroshi said dismissively, returning to his socializing.

* * *

"Yeah, thanks Aunt Joan, I'll take care of it," Lenore called back as she navigated her way through the crowd. 

Upon reaching her destination, Lenore crossed her arms beneath her breasts and put on the fiercest glare she had. "You haven't been talking to anyone all night," she hissed, rather put out.

Erik, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest in obvious disinterest, merely shrugged.

"This is your chance to get to know my family and friends," she pointed out.

"I'm not the only person at fault. They could take Christi for example and approach me instead of making me come to them," Erik replied.

"No one else is as stupid as Christi. Everyone else can see your aloof, bored, and rather disapproving attitude," Lenore informed him.

"I have no interest in getting to know these people; they'll be a miniscule part of our lives, if that."

"You're just afraid that you might find that some of these people are nice, that you might want to make friends with them."

"What would be the point of that?" Erik snapped. "They'll all die soon, they wouldn't be around long enough for me to actually become friends with any of them."

"They're not gonna die that soon," Lenore argued. "I mean, most of them won't anyway. And besides, it's not about when they die, it's about having someone to talk to."

"Time is much different for me, chérie," Erik responded. "To you, ten years seems like a very long time, but to me, it's merely a minute. And I'm afraid I don't want to be able to talk to people for only a few minutes before I can never see them again."

Lenore's arms dropped to her sides as her glare slipped off her face. Shaking her head, she turned to start back into the vast collection of relatives and friends.

"Where are you going?" he inquired. Of course, that wasn't what she heard. His tone told her what he really wanted to say; _"Don't leave me alone. I want you to stay for awhile and talk to me."_

"I'm finding someone who wants to talk to me," she replied. "I know you don't want to talk to me. Because I've only got about six minutes left to live, and you don't like talking to be people who will gone in a few minutes."

"I asked you to marry me because I want to share in every minute in your life," Erik responded, grabbing her arm so she couldn't walk off.

"They're a part of those minutes, Erik. And you've been ignoring them," she said.

"I…suppose…I could make an effort," he finally conceded, looping her arm through his. "So who are we speaking with first?"

* * *

Erik spent the night observing the many faces of Lenore he'd never seen before. It was actually quite surprising. She took on so many different personas that Erik began to believe he didn't know the first thing about his fiancé, which was a terribly unpleasant thought. 

"So what do you do for a living, boy?" one of her uncles asked sharply, glaring at Erik in the manner of a suspicious father.

"Uncle Beanie, don't," Lenore said, a slight blush on her face and a rather cute little frown.

"You're the youngest daughter of my brother, who can't be here to make sure this boy deserves you," her uncle replied. "It's my job to make sure you don't end up with some abusive drunkard."

"Erik's not"-

"How much do you earn in a year, boy? How old are you? Where's your family?" her uncle inquired sharply.

"You could say I'm in the insurance business. I earn roughly seven hundred thousand American dollars a year, I'm one hundred and seventy eight years old, and my family is long dead," Erik answered. Let that uncle of hers chew on that for a bit.

"That's bullshit," the man responded without missing a beat. "Give me your last name, I want to do a check for criminal records."

"I assure you there's no record on me," Erik smirked. "That's not to say I haven't committed my share of crimes, but if you don't get caught…"

"Erik!" Lenore hissed, stomping on his foot in the attempt to keep him in line.

Trying to ignore the throbbing pain that her high heeled shoe had caused, Erik glared at her uncle. If the man would just drop the subject, this wouldn't be a problem. "Regardless, my personal life is none of your business. It's a very touching sentiment and all, trying to take her father's place and judge me in the interest of Lenore's wellbeing. But she does have a father figure in this Second Life, and he has deemed me worthy. If you still doubt my worth, have a chat with Hiroshi," Erik snapped, turning on his heel and dragging Lenore away from the man.

"Erik, that was extremely rude!" Lenore snarled, not bothering to keep her voice down to avoid attracting attention.

"I suppose it was," he replied. "But it was also quite rude of your uncle to put me through an interrogation. The choice is yours to make, not his. And you've already made that decision; thus his opinion has no importance." Erik had finally managed to drag her out of the Sainte-Chapelle into a hallway of the courthouse, assuring them some privacy for a few moments.

"Are you determined to ruin the evening for me?" Lenore asked bitterly. Erik could tell she was already creating a scorching reply if the answer was 'yes'.

"You know social gatherings aren't my cup of tea," Erik replied evasively.

"I don't care if social gatherings are your cup of tea or dose of castor oil," Lenore bit back. "I'm asking for one night. Are you incapable of being sociable for one night?"

"You ask for two nights," Erik reminded her. "You were determined to have that damn reception tomorrow night, and they've all been invited to that as well."

"You know, that is asking too much of you. I'm sorry," she said, not sounding even remotely apologetic. "Why don't you go home and start preparing for socializing tomorrow night, and I'll stay here?"

Erik tried to keep a firm rein on his temper. "Do remember that you're not allowed out of my sight for more than five minutes."

"So what? Hiroshi told me I can get around that one so long as I'm in another immortal's sight," Lenore informed Erik, a smug smile tugging up the corners of her lips. "And Hiroshi's here socializing…"

_Damn you, Hiroshi! _Of course Hiroshi would tell her that; anything to ruin what little bit of control Erik could exert over her. Erik couldn't reply just yet, as he knew that his temper would get the better of him. That would end up with him shouting at her that they were leaving now, whether she liked it or not, before throwing her over his shoulder and storming out.

"You look pissed," Christi's energetic voice said cheerfully as she appeared seemingly out of nowhere behind Lenore. "You really need to take a chill pill; I told you Lenore's a bitch."

"Stop poofing!!" Lenore shouted at Christi. "I hate it when you do that 'poof' appear out of nowhere thing!"

"But it annoys you, and that's soooo much fun," Christi giggled.

"Lenore, people have been asking"- Hiroshi began to say as he entered the corridor from one of the side doors. He stopped upon seeing the scene, taking a brief moment to assess the situation. "You're Christi, aren't you?"

"Who the hell are you?" Christi asked warily. "How do you know my name?"

"I'm Lenore's father," Hiroshi replied, walking over to the girl and linking arms with her, starting to pull her away from Erik and Lenore. "Lenore's mentioned you; she told me a good deal actually. I have a friend who I believe would be greatly interested in you…"

Christi had been struggling to pull her arm free, but had yet to succeed. Superhuman strength was another perk of immortality. "OH MY GOD! LENORE, HE'S A DEMON!!!" Christi shrieked. "I can't get loose!!!"

"No, he's not a demon. He's Jack the Ripper," Lenore muttered under her breath.

"Now, we'll have to head downstairs to meet my friend," Hiroshi continued addressing Christi as if she hadn't just screamed about him being a demon.

"We're on the ground floor, idiot," Christi snapped. "There's no downstairs."

"There's always a downstairs," Hiroshi corrected pleasantly. "I think you'll enjoy Belial's Dark Citadel, Christi."

The two disappeared through a dark portal, and Erik had the distinct feeling that going to Hell would be like going home for Christi. Most likely, that annoying imp would find a way to kill Satan and take over. Which was a rather frightening thought.

"It seems Hiroshi decided he's had enough socializing for the evening," Erik commented, smirking at Lenore. Now she couldn't propose staying here while he went home.

"I'm not asking for much," Lenore huffed. "I just want you to make a good impression on my friends and family. And the only way to do that is by conversing politely with them. Not insulting them, or threatening them, or anything else that can be taken offensively. Can't you manage that for two more hours?"

The answer was 'no', but not for the reason she would think. _I hate this. I hate discovering how many different sides of you exist that I've never seen before. I hate trying to figure out whether or not anyone sees the real you at all. Ember thinks she does, but I've seen parts of you that I know Ember hasn't. I hate thinking that I don't know you. I hate worrying that you're still hiding things from me. And I especially hate thinking that I might never see the real you at all, that you might hide behind a mask for the rest of your life and I won't even realize it._

"Who are you?" he asked, staring into her eyes intently as if that would provide the answer he needed.

"What are you talking about?" Lenore snapped. "That's like, the stupidest question I've ever heard. I'm Lenore, you moron."

_Such a temper, my little one. Is that because Christi was here moments ago and you've not yet taken off the mask you wear for Christi? _"I know your name," Erik hissed.

"Then why did you ask?"

"You're a different person with each of your guests, and I'm afraid I've quite lost you in all the different Lenores you've been showing tonight. Which leads me to wonder if I ever knew the real Lenore, if you wear a mask for me as you do for everyone else," Erik responded.

* * *

_There's no need to panic, you told him years ago that you wear a mask for people based on their expectations. Just breathe and think about this calmly and rationally._ Lenore hated that breathing had become so hard, as if her next breath would bring the whole building crashing in on her, hated that all she could do was stare at the floor. Her heart raced frantically in her chest, and she wished with all her might that Erik would stop staring at her. 

"If you really wanna go home now, I guess we can," she said, hoping to distract him and avoid answering the question.

"We're not leaving until you tell me who you are," Erik replied.

"Oh, okay. In that case…" Lenore shrugged as she turned to head back into Sainte-Chapelle and hopefully lose Erik in the crowd of her friends and family.

Erik wouldn't have it though. Grabbing her arm, he jerked her back, pushing her up against the wall. He took her wrists and pressed them into the wall at the level of her eyes, successfully pinning her in place.

"Why are you afraid to answer me?" Erik hissed, fury burning in his eyes.

"Leave me alone," she whispered turning her head to the side so she didn't have to look at him.

Erik pulled her an inch away from the wall so that he could slam her back into it. "Look at me!" he snarled. "Don't try to play a frightened little girl to get out of this!" Lenore refused to look at him, mostly because she wasn't play-acting right now. He slammed her into the wall again, frustrated with her lack of cooperation.

"Someone's probably going to come looking for me soon. If they see this, they'll all be out here in seconds, beating you up for hurting me," Lenore informed him, still not looking at him.

"That won't happen, I'm afraid," Erik replied. "Firstly, as your future husband, I have a right to know who you truly are. Secondly, I can easily escape down to Hell before they could even lay a finger on me. And I won't hesitate to bring you along for the ride."

"Let go," she commanded softly.

"As soon as you answer the damn question."

"Let go!" she shouted, attempting to throw all her weight forward to get loose. Of course, that failed miserably. She spent the next few minutes frantically squirming and wriggling to free herself, but the only result was that she exhausted herself to the point where she couldn't struggle anymore. She was gasping for air and Erik's grip on her wrists was now tighter than it had been before (as he wanted to be certain she wouldn't escape), cutting off circulation. "Let go," she pleaded. "You're hurting me." Maybe she could play the sympathy card…

"If you hadn't tried to escape, I wouldn't have to hold you so tightly," he responded coldly. So much for the sympathy card.

"Let go," she tried again, this time bursting into tears and letting her legs buckle beneath her so that Erik's grip on her wrists was the only thing keeping her from collapsing to the floor.

"Don't give me those crocodile tears," Erik sighed in exasperation. "And stand up, there's nothing wrong with your legs in this life."

But Lenore had no intentions of cooperating. Instead, she only sobbed harder and relaxed her body so that it was like a dead weight.

Erik let go of her wrists and her bottom hit the floor rather painfully. Before she could scramble away, he dropped down onto her lap, trapping her legs beneath him.

"Get off," she protested, sniffling to keep her nose from dripping.

"Who are you?"

"Get off!"

"Who are you?"

"Get off, damnit!"

"Who are you?"

"The idiot who agreed to marry you, now get off!!"

"Who are you?"

"A woman who's severely annoyed! Now get the fuck off!"

Erik failed to repeat his question; he slapped her across the face. He said nothing about her language, merely waited for her to recover from the shock of being struck for her profanity before saying, "Who are you?"

"Stop it, I'm not answering you," she snarled, leaning back against the wall as it seemed Erik was going to sit on her lap until she answered him. In which case they could be here a very long time.

"Damn you, woman! I merely wish to know who it is I'm marrying," Erik pointed out. "Am I marrying the Lenore who's all smiles and pretty words for her pastor and his wife, or am I marrying the Lenore who's violent and bitter for Christi? Or perhaps the Lenore who is incredibly sexually suggestive around her friends?"

"Just drop it, okay? I don't want to talk about it," Lenore whispered, closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to look at him.

"Then I suppose we'll be postponing our marriage," Erik replied, his hurt audible in his tone, despite the fact that he had tried so hard not to let her hear it.

"Why?"

"I'm not going to marry you if you have to pretend to be someone you're not to make me happy," Erik said softly, his left hand coming up to caress her cheek.

"I don't do it to make other people happy," she informed him. "Who am I…God, that's a loaded question." She sighed heavily. _Where to begin…_

"I…I'm sorry," Lenore started with. Best to get that said and out of the way. "It's not you. I…I…I pretend for everyone, Erik. Everyone. Even myself. Yes, I wear a mask around you, just like I do with everyone else. Don't feel bad that you never saw it; I'm a master at what I do."

Lenore kept her eyes closed, too afraid that what she might see in his eyes would kill her. "And it's not your fault either. I don't trust, because I don't know how. It's easier to just be what people want me to be. At least, it is for me. It's so simple to figure out what people want to see when they look at me, and I'm a good enough actress to pull it off. So why bother disappointing them? It's just so simple to let them see what they want. No one will reject me if I'm what they want me to be. I just…I just can't trust that anyone will want a disappointment like me, so I have to live up to everyone's expectations."

"Who do you pretend to be for me?" The question was so soft, she almost didn't hear it.

"What do you want to see in me, Erik? You want to see someone who can trust, so I pretend to trust. You want to see a woman who's strong, who's capable of making it on her own. I'm weak…so weak…I always need someone. But of course, that's not what you see, is it? You want to see a woman who won't cower in fear of you, and that's the only thing I don't pretend for you. You do scare me sometimes, but…I like that kind of thing. I like aggression, I like male dominance in the relationship. I like to struggle because it makes me feel as if I'm doing something to try and free myself from the slavery of society's expectations," Lenore replied.

"Thank you for your honesty," Erik said. Finally, she dared to open her eyes. His eyes looked down on her with pity. "For now on, I want you to be yourself. I don't want you to pretend anything for me anymore."

"But…what if it's the mask you love?"

"Then I will learn to love what lies beneath it."

"Erik…umm…" Lenore ventured tentatively, not sure if she wanted to say anything.

"What is it?"

"Can you get off now?"

Erik shifted himself around until he was straddling her, supporting his own weight. "How's that?" Without giving her a chance to reply, he pressed his lips to hers in another one of his soul-stealing kisses. His hands slid into her hair, entangling themselves hopelessly.

Lenore kept shifting herself slowly, making sure Erik followed every movement, until she had the wall to her right and was able to lay back. Erik was more than willing to lay her down; as soon as he knew the wall was out of the way, he pushed her down as his kiss became more aggressive, more demanding. Her right hand shot up along the wall, her fingers scrabbling for something to hold on so she wouldn't drown in the passion.

Just as she was about to push Erik up and tell him they should head back before someone came looking, she heard her mother's voice. "HE'S RAPING HER!" Mrs. Parker screamed at the top of her lungs. Lenore could feel the floor vibrating and hear the thundering of feet as uncles, male cousins, and male friends came rushing to save her.

* * *

"Damn fucking bitch," Erik snarled as he broke the kiss. 

Erik knew he was outnumbered and wouldn't be given a chance to explain himself. He had to get out of there, with Lenore in tow, immediately. He didn't have time to try and get out of the courthouse; they were too close, he could see them coming through the door Lenore's mother had screamed her misunderstanding into.

_Damn, it looks like Hell's the only choice I've got. _Opening a portal beneath them, Erik tried to console himself with the fact that he'd just escaped an insanely long and intensely painful beating.

Lenore screamed as they fell through the portal, but she needn't have worried. They landed on a large, soft bed. Every member of the Condemned Circle had apartments in Satan's castle in Hell, so Erik had linked the portal to his private chambers. Not that he was ever there often, so it looked rather impersonal.

"Splendid entrance, Keeran," Raghnall praised.

Erik quickly glanced around the room and was displeased to find the entire Circle had gathered in his room, as well as Satan.

"Who are they?" Lenore inquired, seeing as how she only knew two of the Circle's members. Then she noticed Christi staring off into space, sitting at Raghnall's feet. "What's wrong with Christi?"

"Oh, I had to give her a bit of a tranquilizer," Raghnall said dismissively. "She was a bit too rambunctious to leave her in my laboratory by herself during this little visit."

"I would like some privacy, if it's not too much to ask," Erik snarled. After all, he couldn't really do much with Lenore if the whole Circle was going to watch.

"You can't fuck kitten now," Hiroshi sighed. "There are ceremonies that need to be taken care of."

"Like what?" Erik snapped. Ceremonies. Ridiculous. They were just making an excuse to keep him from doing what he wanted.

"Think of these ceremonies like a pre-wedding party," Raghnall said with a smile. "You each have a separate ceremony. I was quite delighted to find the documents detailing these ceremonies in tact, you know; the ceremonies haven't been performed for a few millennia…"

"Anyway, a member of the Circle must go with kitten on hers," Hiroshi said, his eyes gleaming in a frightening manner. "As her father, I volunteer."

Raghnall, sitting next to Hiroshi, reached over and tapped a pressure point on Hiroshi's neck, knocking the man unconscious. "Oh, what a shame. It seems Conner's unavailable," he remarked cheerfully. "I suppose I'll have to go with her instead."

"I don't like the sound of this," Lenore muttered. "Can we go home now, Erik?"

"No," Satan answered, examining his nails as though bored with this whole exchange. "I'm afraid I've already locked all the portals; you aren't leaving until you've gone through the ceremonies, darling."

"Let's get started, shall we?" Raghnall beamed.

* * *

"Let go of me or I'll rip your head off!" Lenore threatened Raghnall. Erik had grudgingly agreed to going through these ceremonies and Raghnall had grabbed Lenore by the arm, yanking her off to do whatever it was she had to do. Of course, she'd been protesting something awful, so she had been thrown over Raghnall's shoulder while he led Christi along, who happened to be wearing a leash and collar so Raghnall wouldn't lose track of her. 

"Oh, you're so very vicious. Such a shame I can't take notes right now," he sighed.

"You're disturbing! I hate you," Lenore hissed.

"I just can't wait to observe your interaction with Christi after the Defaeco Ritus," Raghnall bubbled excitedly. "Both of you are quite wonderful subjects for study on your own, but the two of you together…"

"Defa what?" Lenore inquired in bewilderment.

"Defaeco Ritus. The Rite of Cleansing. It's the second ceremony," Raghnall explained.

"Well what's the first?"

"Sordesco Ritus," Raghnall replied. "That will be an interesting one to observe, I have no doubt."

"And what's that one?"

"You'll see."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Hiroshi volunteered to perform that rite, but we all voted against that, as he's a father figure to you and that would just be disturbing," Raghnall replied. "Oh, here we are." Raghnall pushed open a large oak door to his right and walked in, closing the door behind Christi and setting Lenore down.

"Quite a pretty one," a man's voice commented from the shadows. "It will be a pleasure to perform this rite, Raghnall."

Lenore grabbed for the doorknob; there would be no ceremony if she had her way about it. Something silvery and sticky shot out of the darkness, wrapping around her wrist. There was a jerk on the other end of this sticky rope-like substance and Lenore was dragged a few feet away from the door in the direction of the shadows.

"What is this stuff?" Lenore muttered, touching the substance with her other hand. The sticky substance clung to her other hand as well, but she managed to pull that hand free. Though it would be impossible to free the wrist it held.

"I don't think you want to know, Lenore," Raghnall said, taking a seat in the chair by the door. Christi stood next to him, still in her drugged haze, staring off into space stupidly. Raghnall whipped out some parchment and a pen, settling in for observations.

Lenore started back for the doorknob at a run and managed to catch hold of it just as the silvery rope jerked her wrist back the other way. The result was that she clung to the door for dear life with one hand, feeling as if her right arm would be ripped out of its socket due to the pull of the rope in the opposite direction.

"Do let go of the door, insect. You're wasting time," the mysterious voice sighed.

"You let go of me!" Lenore replied. She could feel her fingers starting to slip off the doorknob and she prayed that he would comply with her wishes before her hand lost its grip.

"And not do the duty given to me by the Condemned Circle? Having tea and crumpets with Christ would be better than the punishment I'd receive for failing the Circle."

"Then take a trip to Heaven and have your tea party," Lenore grumbled, her fingertips barely hanging on now.

"I'm not fond of the taste of tea," the voice replied casually. "I like blood much better."

"Freak. Have blood and crumpets then." Just at that moment, her fingertips lost their grip on the door knob and she when flying back into the shadows.

Strong arms wrapped around her, hands sliding sensually over her bare arms. She could feel odd, soft protuberances on the man's fingers that reminded her of having insects crawling on one's skin, which made her shiver. "Don't be so tense," he commanded. "I'll only hurt you badly." Lenore twisted her head around to look at him, but all she saw in the darkness was two silvery eyes shining brightly and focused on her.

"Raghnall, you are so dead when I tell Erik about this," Lenore hissed.

"Death threats," Raghnall muttered, scribbling furiously.

"You are so weird," Lenore mumbled at Raghnall. "Stop fiddling with my hair!" she yelled at this mysterious man who was currently pulling her hair back off her neck. "And what the hell's your name? And what are you?"

"I am called Veleno," the man told her, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered to her. "And I'm a demon."

She was about to ask what kind of demon when two elongated teeth sank into her neck. Her first thought was 'vampire', but that thought vanished the moment she felt something had been injected into her blood instead of having blood sucked out of her. Fear raged through Lenore as she quickly lost feeling, and the ability to move anything other than her eyes.

Laying her down on the floor, Veleno disappeared into a corner of the dark room, leaving Lenore wondering what the hell that had been about. Raghnall complained about the lack of light in the room making it hard for him to record information and Veleno responded that Raghnall could light a few candles if necessary.

Lenore would have screamed at what the light revealed, had she been capable. Veleno had a total of six arms, all of which were currently employed in the business of spinning an enormous web.

_Raghnall is dead when Erik finds out, and I'll kill Veleno myself, since Erik always lets spiders go._

When Veleno finished spinning the gigantic web, he took her to it. Carefully navigating the thick threads, he walked out onto it, placing her in the center. Using claw-like fingernails on his second arm on the left side, he slit her clothes down the front and gently pushed the fabric off her body, letting the cloth get stuck around her in his webbing.

"Don't worry, little butterfly, I won't eat you," Veleno promised, running the hands of his first pair of arms across her skin, which were the ones containing what she now knew to be setules that made her shiver. His hands continually returned to her breasts and the area between her legs and Lenore desperately prayed for any interruption at all, even if it was Hiroshi coming in take over.

Veleno retreated to the edge of the web just as she came out of her paralysis. Lenore didn't dare struggle, as that would only get her hopelessly entangled in his web. _I'm not going to let you have me that easy, bastard._ She knew enough about spiders to know that the center of the web was the most sensitive to vibrations and that her struggling could topple and ensnare him had he stayed close to her, which was why spiders waited at the edge of the web for their prey to wrap themselves in the thread through struggling before consuming the meal.

He watched for a few minutes, obviously expecting a struggle. Climbing the wall and then crawling across the ceiling, he descended on a strand of silk to hang inches above her. "What a smart little bug you are," he commented, a pleased grin on his face. "And yet stupid at the same time. You're only helping me in my goal." That said, he crawled back up his thread, across the ceiling, down the wall, and returned to his position at the edge of the web.

"Raghnall," Lenore called, her voice trembling slightly. "Help me out here, please."

"Darling, it's part of the ceremony," Raghnall replied, still taking notes.

"But…but…I'm scared of spiders," Lenore squeaked.

"Oh? How intriguing of a study this will make!" Raghnall remarked, delight glinting in his eyes.

"Are you ready to begin, my butterfly?" Veleno inquired.

"No!" Lenore answered firmly. Whatever it was he intended to "start" was not something she wanted, she was sure of that.

Veleno smiled maliciously and tapped a thread in the web. When Lenore felt a vibration on one of her breasts, she jerked inadvertently. It seemed the reason he had been so obsessed with touching very personal areas was to rig up an almost invisible web across those areas so that he could stimulate her by vibrating the threads linked to the miniature webs. The result of her twitch was a slight binding of her arms with the threads of the main web.

"I'm quite sorry this has to be done this way," Veleno said sincerely. "But I'm a mix of breeds, you see. My mother was a Redback, and my father was a ground Crab Spider. I seem to have inherited both species' mating rituals. Thus, I entice you with vibration and bind you to the web before mating. I'm actually a creation of Raghnall; spiders don't mix breeds on their own."

"My condolences," Lenore muttered. She called to Christi, hoping her friend would help her, but Christi was mentally on holiday and didn't even register that anyone had spoken to her.

* * *

_Raghnall is dead the next time I see him. If he hadn't found those damn documents, we wouldn't have to suffer these ridiculous ceremonies._

Erik was currently locked in a room with a female rabbit demon, who was all but dying for his attention. She kept scurrying around, trying to get him to chase her as part of the mating rituals she was accustomed to.

_Dear God, if Lenore's being chased by a male rabbit…_ Male rabbits had been known to get too excited and violently kick prospective mates during the ritual, injuring the doe inadvertently.

"Woman, I have no intention of mating with you," Erik snarled. The bunny girl stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening and becoming teary. "Stop trying to make me feel remorse for hurting your non-existent feelings."

With an angry snarl, she leapt onto him, tackling him to the ground. He should have realized a demon wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. But Erik was stronger than this rabbit demon and he managed to roll her over onto her back. She seemed quite taken aback and uncertain as to how to handle the situation; rabbits didn't copulate with the female on her back and thus, the bunny girl was frozen in shock, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do in this situation.

While her tiny brain try to ponder things out, Erik decided to check up on Lenore, his mind reaching out for hers. It took a few moments, but he managed to find her and connected with her.

_Lenore, are you alright?_

_Erik?_ her voice quivered in his mind.

_Are you alright?_

_Define alright,_ Lenore replied.

_Alright would mean you aren't running away from a sex-obsessed rabbit demon._

_Well, I don't like your definition of the word. I'm most certainly not alright, as I'm currently experiencing spider foreplay!_

Erik leapt off the rabbit girl (who was still trying to figure out what to do from her position on her back) and made for the door. It didn't matter that it was locked; he'd break it down if he had to. He would not allow some damn spider demon to molest Lenore, especially since he knew how frightened she was of arachnids.

"Just enjoy your little bunny, Erik," Satan's voice sounded outside the door. "Don't try to interrupt Lenore's Sordesco Ritus."

"I'll not suffer my wife being raped by a spider," Erik replied, pounding a fist against the door in frustration.

"Don't think of it as rape. Think of it as one last fling before she commits," Satan suggested.

"You're despicable," Erik hissed.

"Play with the bunny, Erik," Satan sighed. "You can't move to the Defaeco Ritus until you've fucked her. Just like Lenore can't move on until Veleno's had her."

* * *

Lenore sat in the pool-sized bath, wearing a rather murderous look. When Veleno had finished with her, she had moved on to this bath, which was the second rite according to Raghnall. Raghnall was sitting off to the side, scribbling desperately to record as much information as possible. Christi was slowly coming out of her haze, occasionally seeming to notice that there were people in the room besides herself. 

A member of the Circle she was not familiar with was bathing her, as Raghnall said the documents dictated that the person undergoing the rite wasn't allowed to cleanse themselves and their bather must be someone of the opposite sex that was somehow related to the bride or groom.

"I'm going to get my revenge, just you wait," she hissed at Raghnall. She was quite certain he'd invented these stupid rites, just so he'd have interesting scenarios to observe her.

When the cleansing was finally done, Lenore got out of the tub, expecting to be handed a robe or some clothes. Instead she was immediately escorted to the next room, where she was to receive the Probatur Fidelis.

Lenore's eyes widened in shock when she entered the room. Had she been an anime character, she would've had blood spurting from her nose. There was an exceptionally large bed in the center of the room, and lounging in the middle of the bed, with the covers pulled up just high enough to hide a private area, was Uriel, wings fully spread out. She knew it couldn't be Uriel; he wouldn't be in Hell. But they'd done an exceptional job of producing a very believable copy.

"Lenore…come to bed with me," the fake Uriel said, giving her an unbelievably sexy grin. God, it even sounded like him!

* * *

Erik had been rather disturbed throughout the second ritual. It was terribly awkward; Hiroshi had brought Ember down to bathe Erik, as the bather must be someone of the opposite sex related to the bride or groom. And having one's future sister-in-law give one a bath was a very uncomfortable experience. 

Not that Ember seemed to mind. She was very enthusiastic about the idea, despite the fact that she was married. (Erik was truly shocked that Ember had never tried to take Lenore's place in his affections, what with the fact that both Parker girls had been obsessed with the idea of having a romance with him.)

He had been escorted to the third ritual, which was called a test of loyalty. Erik seriously doubted there was anyone that could tempt him into being unfaithful.

"Erik…" a soft, familiar voice called from the bed in the center of the room.

_Damn them._

Brown curls framed that beautiful, innocent face. Erik could tell she was naked beneath the sheets. She smiled that radiant smile and patted the bed to make sure he knew he was welcome to share the bed with her.

He took a few steps towards her before catching himself. _No. I can't._ "Erik, I'm sorry for leaving you," Christine apologized, hanging her head and looking properly ashamed.

"Christine, I can't"- he began.

"I was afraid of my feelings for you. I just didn't know how to handle them. I was frightened and I ran," she explained. "What I didn't realize was that those feelings were true love."

Erik silently cursed at himself; he'd come up beside the bed without realizing it. "Please stop it, this is"-

"I love you, Erik," Christine said with such sincerity it was impossible to think she was lying.

He found he was sitting on the bed now, and his hands had decided to cup Christine's beautiful, perfect face. "It cannot be, Christine. It couldn't work then, and it won't work now," he told her, steeling his will to fight the temptation.

"Have you…have you found someone else?" Christine said, her eyes filling with tears. "She can't sing like I can, I know she can't. Let me sing for you, Erik. Any song you wish."

"Her voice may not be as perfect as yours, but I find it enjoyable," he replied, struggling with the part of him that wanted to dry Christine's tears and give in to this illusion.

"She won't love you like I do, Erik. She won't! Please," Christine begged. "Please don't tell me that you don't want me. We both know it's a lie. I'm ready to be yours, Erik, I am. Let me be your wife."

"Yes, I want you," he admitted. "But I won't hurt her like that. You say she won't love me like you do. That may be true, but she loves me with all her heart, and I couldn't ask her to give more than that. Lenore and I are to be married tomorrow, Christine, and I would never dream of leaving her at the altar."

"Then at least give me one night, one chance to show you how deeply I love you," she pleaded.

Erik sighed and did the hardest thing he'd ever had to do in his life. Standing up, he turned his back to Christine and walked away from her. A door appeared in the wall, and, knowing he'd passed the test, Erik walked through it, happy these ridiculous ceremonies were at an end. Surely Lenore was waiting for him in the next room.

Satan was lounging on a couch, a truly delighted grin on his face. "Very good, Erik, I was certain Christine would get you," he declared.

Erik looked around the room worriedly, but Lenore wasn't present. If she found out about Christine, she would've been terribly jealous.

"Oh, this marriage is perfect," Satan sighed happily. "You have no idea what it means to me." Satan closed his eyes for a moment, envisioning something that made him beam. "I must do something to reward you. Perhaps…would you like me to finish what Hiroshi started? Would you like me to make your face perfect?"

Erik seriously considered this proposal. To be perfect, to never have to wear a mask in public…But what about Lenore? Would she want his face perfect? Surely she wouldn't object. And her legs were perfect now, so wouldn't it be fair for him to have his ugly deformity corrected?

_She didn't fall in love with my face. She fell in love with who I am. She accepts this imperfection; there's no need to change anything for her. It would be selfish to accept it only for my own purposes._

"I'm fine with my face the way it is," he finally answered. He hoped he wouldn't regret it, wouldn't find out later that Lenore would've wanted him to take that offer.

"If you're sure," Satan shrugged. "But if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask. I owe you one, Erik." There was a brief pause where Satan closed his eyes once again, letting a smile show. "The perfect instrument to ensure my reign; fortune showers me with priceless treasures." Opening his eyes, he addressed Erik once again. "Clothes are on the table to your right. Lenore is through the door to your left. She took a few more minutes with her test than you did…"

* * *

Lenore shifted on the couch. She'd had a hell of a time refusing that copy of Uriel. In fact, she had climbed into bed with him and almost kissed him before she managed to resist the temptation and walk away. 

Erik entered the room, dressed in a black robe similar to the one she'd been provided with. "Are you alright?" he asked immediately, hurrying over to her and sitting next to her, his eyes already searching for any sign of injury.

"I've been better," she confessed. "I mean, how would you feel if you were raped by a spider, bathed by a stranger, and tempted by a carbon copy of an archangel?"

"If it's any consolation, I had a rabbit forced on me and your sister bathed me," Erik replied.

_And Christine tempted you, didn't she? You don't have to hide it you know. It's true, I'm somewhat jealous. But I know you resisted her, and that's what matters. _"Somehow, I doubt a rabbit was as bad as Veleno," Lenore muttered.

"At least you didn't have to chase someone around the room," Erik responded.

"No, I got jerked across the room violently, had a shot of venom, laid on the floor completely paralyzed while watching Veleno spin a web of doom, then be laid in the center of said web, have my clothes slit off, and have thousands of setules slide over rather personal areas of my body as he rigged up a web on those areas in such a manner that he could vibrate the threads to stimulate me," Lenore pointed out. "Let me tell you, webs are extremely strong. I mean, that thing was rocking pretty hard, and the threads never broke. But the worst part was definitely when we were dangling from the ceiling by a single strand. The swinging is…" Lenore stopped there, shuddering as she remembered that particular experience.

"I'm sorry," Erik said, taking her in his arms and giving her a comforting hug. "If I could've helped you, I would have."

"Let's go home," Lenore suggested, more than ready to leave Hell. A few minutes later, Erik was laying Lenore down in bed in the house below the Opera Populaire.

* * *

"Well, wasn't that a disappointing chapter? To think I could've watched kitten have sex with a spider demon. If only Raghnall hadn't knocked me unconscious..." Hiroshi sighed. Giving a cry of pain, he slumped over at the desk and Tammy pushed him out of the chair, taking back control of the keyboard.

"Ha! Take that! I'm not the Queen of the Sporks for nothing," Tammy proclaimed. "I do so love my shocky spork. It does such a splendid job of electrocuting people."

"Oh, look at him twitch," Raghnall remarked, scribbling down notes on the effects of shocky sporks and speculating all possible uses of such a weapon.

"How did you get loose, woman?" Erik inquired curiously.

"Oh, I believe it was Artzee who let me loose," Tammy replied. "She has earned herself a small contingency of assassin squirrels to keep her safe."

"Erik, can we please leave the review reminder?" Lenore asked, anxious to get back into the somewhat safer and more sane story.

"You know, I've got that extra bed I'm not using," Tammy said conversationally. "Stay awhile, have a bit of fun. I'll take Jack and Raghnall out to the student union for smoothies, we'll give you a few hours alone..."

"I wonder if Hiroshi's capable of drinking a smoothie. Perhaps it wouldn't go well with the after effects of the shocky spork," Raghnall mused.

"So, if you readers would be so kind as to review (and remember, we accept anonymous reviews), I'll take the two boys out for smoothies while Erik and Lenore have pre-wedding sex," Tammy said, putting on shoes and locating her jacket.


	40. Chapter 40

Lady Taevyn: Yes, it's rather creepy that you can hear Hiroshi's voice in your head…maybe you should look into a psychiatrist, lol. See if you can't find Sebastian.

Artzee: How kind of you to name your assassin squirrel escorts. I just give them rank numbers, based on their skills.

MJ MOD: Yeah, how will Lenore handle growing old while Erik stays the same? And how will he live knowing she's going to die for good this time around? And what's making Satan so happy? You'll have to wait to find out the answers to these questions.

Jadesy: I'm glad you adore Hiroshi. Finally there's someone out there who isn't all like "Hiroshi creepy, eww." Just so long as you don't try to take him from me. I need him now that my yummy Uriel has been set free. (weeps)

Lethia: Yes, you had 11 children, you rabbit you. Lol. And yes, I have regained the keyboard!!

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"I don't wanna," Lenore mumbled into the pillow.

Erik shook his head and sighed. Apparently she wasn't going to get up unless he took drastic measures. Going to the bottom of the bed, he shooed Bishop off the blankets. "I'll give you one more chance, chérie," Erik warned. "It's time to get up."

"No," she muttered sleepily.

Erik jerked the covers off the bed, exposing Lenore to the cool air in the room. She shivered and whimpered pathetically, burying her face in the pillow and curling up into a ball to retain as much heat as possible. Bishop trotted off Erik's pillow and started licking her shoulder.

"Bishop, stop it," Lenore commanded through a yawn. "Erik, give me back the blankets, I'm tired."

"It's eleven o'clock," Erik informed her. "Our wedding starts in five hours."

"Then I should be able to have another hour before I have to get up," she mumbled. "At least give me one of those damned robes from Hell, I'm freezing here. I'll get sick." She had a good point; the cold air was bad for her considering the fact that she lacked any clothes due to the three times they made love last night.

"That will leave you with only four hours. That's not enough time," Erik argued.

"Thirty minutes for my hair, fifteen for make up, fifteen for getting into the gown. That takes one hour. Which leaves me three hours to eat, shower, and get to the church. If I can't do that in three hours, then I'm pathetic."

"And if I let you sleep another hour, something will go drastically wrong to delay you. Your hair won't cooperate, or you'll have run out of lipstick and none of your friends or relatives will have any with them, so you'll have to send someone out to a store. And this person will have to try six or seven different shops before finding the right shade of lipstick," Erik replied. "Or you'll have difficulties figuring out how to put on the gown."

"Your positive outlook is such an inspiration, Erik," Lenore said sarcastically.

"That's nice, dear, but I'd much prefer to hear you say you're getting out of bed."

"Normal men want to hear a woman say she's getting in bed."

"Surely you know I'm far from normal. Now are you going to get out of bed, or do I have to drag you out?"

"Fine, I'm getting up," she grumbled. "And stop it with the sandpaper tongue, cat, my shoulder's clean by now."

Bishop's tiny pink tongue retreated into his mouth and he put on one of those pathetic kitten looks that always melted Lenore's heart.

"Aww," she cooed. "I'm sorry I snapped at you." Taking the cat in her arms, she hugged the furry animal to her chest, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

Bishop purred contentedly and gave Erik a look that passed as a smug smirk. The competition for Lenore's attentions was more of a friendly game now then anything else.

"Treasure that kiss, Bishop," Erik advised. Bishop would be spending the next three months with Hiroshi (as Hiroshi insisted he take care of his daughter's cat rather than letting one of Lenore's siblings take it in for the honeymoon), while Erik and Lenore traveled the Rhine.

"Couldn't he come with us?" Lenore asked yet again.

"We've already decided that he wouldn't enjoy being cooped up on a boat," Erik reminded her. The cat wouldn't have minded the lodge in the Alps, but Erik had rather glossed over that part of the trip when he told Lenore about their honeymoon.

"But…he's just so cute!" Lenore exclaimed as Bishop purred contentedly in her arms.

"Yes, and Hiroshi adores cute things," Erik smiled. "He'll love having Bishop for a few months."

"Hiroshi doesn't adore cute things, he adores sex and murder," Lenore countered.

"He also adores cute things, chérie. After all, he adored having you as his daughter."

* * *

"Bishop, please come out from under the bed," Lenore pleaded. She was currently laying on the floor in her dress suit, trying to get her cat so she could take him to the Madeleine to be handed over to Hiroshi. "We have to get to the church. And Hiroshi's really nice, you'll love him." Okay, so maybe that was a bit of a lie. But she needed to get Bishop out from under the bed.

"Aren't you glad you got up at eleven now?" Erik remarked from the other side of the bed.

"Bishop, please," Lenore begged. Bishop was laying under the exact center of the bed, his fish toy between his paws. He looked at her placidly, as if to say he was quite comfortable where he was and could he please be left alone for a little cat nap?

"Cat, don't force me to move this bed to get to you. It would make me cross, and today is not a good day for foul tempers," Erik added.

Bishop seemed unconcerned about Erik's mood.

"If you don't come out from under that bed this instant, we'll have Kathleen keep you instead of Hiroshi," Lenore threatened. "I hear Lucinda's current fascination is trying to put cats in a running dishwasher." Bishop mewed pathetically. "Oh no, that's not going to work this time. If you make me late for my own wedding, cute pathetic kittiness won't save you."

Bishop slunk out from under the bed, his whiskers drooping and his tail down in a rather dejected fashion, his fish toy in his mouth. He looked at Lenore with the largest, saddest eyes he could manage, but Lenore told herself that she had to be firm.

"That's a good boy," she praised, scooping him up in her arms.

* * *

Bishop cowered underneath a chair. He didn't understand what was going on. He was in a room he didn't recognize (that smelled far different from what he was used to), with twelve people. He knew Lenore, Erik, Lucinda, Ember, Kathleen, Sariel, and Hiroshi. He didn't know the other three men, the small boy, or the old woman. That was only part of his terror, though. All twelve of these people were bustling around the room frequently, which meant he was in serious danger of being stepped on if he came out from under the chair.

"That cat should be in a carrier," the old woman said sternly.

"Bishop's fine; he's not bothering anyone," Lenore replied.

"Regardless, he shouldn't be running around loose."

"He's not running around loose, he's hiding under a chair," Hiroshi pointed out.

"What about during the ceremony? You told me you didn't bring a carrier, what do you plan to do then? Shut him up in this room?" the old woman asked Lenore, ignoring Hiroshi entirely.

"I think he'll find someone to sit with," Lenore responded with a smile.

There were a few more minutes of people bustling around (Bishop disliked the wide skirts on Ember, Kathleen, Lucinda, and Sariel) before the old woman spoke again. "We have to get Lenore into her gown now," she said, giving a pointed look at all the males in the room (excluding Bishop). The three men Bishop didn't know, and the little boy, left with a word, but Erik and Hiroshi didn't move. "You two as well," the old woman instructed after a few moments when it was clear they weren't leaving.

"Why should we have to leave?" Hiroshi asked the woman.

"Well, you're a father figure, albeit a poor one, and it's not appropriate of you to watch her change," the old woman explained. "And"-

"I've seen her naked before, Mrs. Parker," Hiroshi informed the woman.

"Well, there's a difference between seeing a child naked and watching an adult woman change," Mrs. Parker replied tersely, assuming that Hiroshi's experiences with Lenore being naked were from bathing her as a child and the like.

"You fail to understand; I've seen her naked as an adult woman. In both lives, as it just so happens," Hiroshi commented, a smirk on his lips. "I must say, she's quite lovely. Such a shame Erik got to her first."

Mrs. Parker moved forward to hit Hiroshi, but Erik grabbed the woman's arm and held her back. "You agreed to get along with him until after the wedding, Madam," Erik reminded Mrs. Parker.

Lenore walked over to Hiroshi. "Daddy, I must point out a fact. You're Jack the Ripper. And it's a bit disturbing for a woman to have Jack the Ripper watching her change. If you recall, my reaction to the times you saw me naked was far from positive," Lenore said.

Hiroshi sighed. "Alright. But only for you, kitten," Hiroshi finally said, placing a quick kiss on her forehead before going out into the hall.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get going," Mrs. Parker commanded Erik.

"Madam, I've slept with your daughter on numerous occasions. I can assure you she won't be the slightest bit uncomfortable having me in the room," he replied.

"It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before she walks down the aisle," Mrs. Parker told Erik.

"Madam, I made the dress," Erik reminded her. "And I doubt anyone other than Sariel and myself are capable of helping Lenore put it on correctly."

"Well, we have Sariel, that's enough," Mrs. Parker smiled.

"I may be an archangel, but I cannot help her into the dress without another archangel or immortal present," Sariel shrugged.

"Whyever not?" Mrs. Parker snarled, turning to look at Sariel. Which was when she caught sight of Lenore, who was already in her undergarments. "Lenore! Cover yourself, don't you have any modesty?"

"Mom, look around. There's only women, the man I've slept with and am about to marry, and a cat in the room. I seriously doubt that anyone's terribly shocked," Lenore reasoned as she removed her brassiere. Kathleen and Ember were already holding the gown open at her feet and Lenore stepped into it, letting them help her get her arms through the sleeves.

"Erik and I shall take it from here," Sariel said when it came time to lace up the gown in the back.

"Oh please! I think Kathleen and I are capable of pulling laces taut and tying a bow," Ember complained.

* * *

"Ember, you don't know how to properly lace it up," Erik argued as Sariel took Lenore into her arms, wrapping one arm around Lenore's waist and the other around her shoulders. Erik took the laces and began deftly threading them through the eyelets in the back of the garment. "Women of this day and age have rather lost the knowledge. As this dress is meant to be worn without undergarments, the corset must close completely in the back, leaving no gap whatsoever. While you might be able to close it, I doubt you'll tie the laces in the proper places. Also, if you don't take care in lacing it, you could end up pinching her skin, and she'll have to suffer that pain for several hours, as we won't have enough time to re-lace it between the ceremony and the reception." Erik had threaded the laces halfway down the back of the bodice at this point. "Lenore, breathe in and hold it. Sariel, make sure you hold on tightly." When Lenore had her breath held, Erik gave a firm tug on the laces and slowly increased the pressure on the laces until the fabric touched in the back. He deftly tied a knot in the laces at that point to keep it from loosening on her upper half. "You can breathe now, ma petite," Erik informed Lenore.

Her breath came out in a ragged gasp. "Now I know why these went out of fashion," she complained. "Erik, I'd rather like to be conscious during the ceremony rather than fainting from not being able to breathe."

"I would prefer you conscious myself, which is why I had you breathe in before I pulled the laces taut; that way, it will only feel like restriction if you take a deep breath," Erik replied as he threaded the long tails from the first knot through the lower eyelets.

"Wait, you're doing that wrong," Ember said. "You're supposed to go from top to middle, then bottom to middle."

"That's for amateurs who are inexperienced," Erik informed Ember. "Or for people who are lacing their corset without assistance." Erik had finished the rest of the lacing. When Erik nodded to Sariel to let her know he had the laces firmly in hand, she released Lenore from her grip.

"What are you doing?" Mrs. Parker shrieked when Sariel's hands came into contact with Lenore's breasts.

"I'm readjusting the position of her breasts," Sariel explained. "If I don't, they'll end up bruised by the end of the night." Sariel paused and stepped back, examining Lenore's bosom for a brief moment before resuming her adjustments. "I think that will do," she said when Lenore's bosom was positioned to her satisfaction, which (from what Erik could see in the mirror on the wall) made Lenore's bosom look a cup size larger than what it truly was.

Sariel took Lenore back in a firm grip. "Another breath, darling," Erik instructed. Moments later, he was tightening the laces once again. He took his time with tying this knot, as the ends of the laces had to be perfectly even for appearance.

"One of us could have held her while Sariel did the lacing," Kathleen mumbled.

"I'm afraid not," Sariel said. "As an archangel, I have far greater physical strength than mortals. When I pulled the laces, I would've ripped her out of your grip. So you can see the need to have another immortal assist in the process."

Lenore was released and went to look at herself in the mirror. "Holy satin corset, Batman! I look…really…gorgeous," Lenore exclaimed.

Erik smiled; he designed that dress to flatter her body in every way. The neckline was just low enough to catch a glimpse of her cleavage line, which was properly modest and attractive at the same time. The corset-like bodice emphasized the hourglass figure she'd been gifted with in Second Life. The skirt had been constructed with great care to ensure she appeared to float on air rather than walk. Every inch of the fabric was embroidered in a rose pattern, beads attached for dewdrops on the rosebuds. It had taken several hours for each rose, and there were over five hundred roses embroidered on the skirt alone.

Kathleen and Ember had to put Lenore's shoes on for her, as the properly laced bodice made it next to impossible unless Lenore was a contortionist. He had made the shoes as well, and it had taken a great deal of time also. The heels were made of diamond, cut so thinly that it appeared to be glass. He had etched roses onto the heels to match the dress.

Erik had gone to all these extreme pains to make sure Lenore would have the fairytale wedding she'd always dreamed of.

* * *

Uriel sat in the front pew, feeling somewhat depressed. She was marrying another man, and he really wished it had gone differently. He didn't blame her or wish for her marriage to go badly, but he couldn't help feeling sad.

Her family and friends filled the pews behind him, and he heard many people asking one another if they recognized the six strangers in the front pew. The six strangers being the six archangels. Many of the younger available men were discussing Gabriel's looks, as poor Gabriel had appeared as a woman yet again. And the available young women were trying to decide which of the five men they wanted to ask to dance at the reception.

The archangels avoided looking at the groom's side of the church, as eleven immortals and Satan himself were seated there, talking cheerfully amongst themselves and occasionally shooting suggestive smiles at the young women, who would blush and return to looking at the archangels.

Uriel was actually quite delighted when Bishop came tearing down the aisle. Lenore's family desperately tried to catch the poor cat, but Bishop was too determined and managed to make it to the front pew. Jumping up onto the bench next to Uriel, the cat sat down calmly as if he hadn't just been running like his life depended on it. Bishop sat his fish toy down in front of him, informing Uriel that this was his friend and playmate, Fishy.

As intelligent as Bishop was due to Uriel's help, it seemed the cat didn't understand that Fishy wasn't alive and Uriel was expected to treat it as if it breathed air like any other animal. So Uriel said hello to the rubber squeaky fish and asked how it was.

"Are you talking to"- Raphael began to ask.

"You don't want to know," Uriel told Raphael.

* * *

Lenore took a deep breath, which rather hurt due to the tightly laced bodice, but she barely noticed the pain. Ember had just gone out and in moments, Lenore would be walking down the aisle. She clung to Hiroshi's arm, trying not to cry.

"Daddy?" she said softly, her voice trembling. "What if"-

"You're ready, darling," Hiroshi cut her off. "I know you are. I wouldn't let you marry him if I wasn't sure." He deftly pulled the veil over her face.

Lenore nodded and sniffled, trying her hardest not to cry. She clutched her bouquet of twelve purple roses tightly, worried that if she loosened her grip, she'd drop the bouquet due to how badly her hands were trembling.

That was when she heard the music signifying her entrance. "Don't cry, kitten," Hiroshi whispered right before they stepped out.

She remembered how many times in the past he'd told her that, times when she fallen and scraped her knees, times when she'd cried to him over the phone that she didn't have any friends at Harvard. He always said life was too short for tears. And that was always followed with a short story about how she was going to marry a fabulous man and live happily ever after. _And if you knew I wouldn't smack you for it, you'd say "I told you so."_

As they started down the aisle on the white carpet that had been laid out for the occasion, her eyes caught Erik's and she couldn't help but smile. She didn't notice anyone in the pews at all, because he was all she could see at that moment in time. It seemed like one second she was at the end of the aisle and the next she was kneeling on a cushion on Erik's left before the priest.

"Dearly beloved," the priest began, "we have come together in this church so that the Lord may seal and strengthen the love of this man and this woman in the presence of the Church's minister and this community. Christ abundantly blesses this love." He turned his attention to Erik and Lenore, no longer addressing the entire congregation. "He has already consecrated you in baptism and now he enriches and strengthens you by a special sacrament so that you may assume the duties of marriage in mutual and lasting fidelity."

This was followed by a Penitential Rite, which ended with the Kyrie Eleison. There was an opening prayer and then the readings began. Sariel had the reading from the Old Testament.

Halfway through her reading, a scowl suddenly appeared on Sariel's face. She paused for a brief second, then continued on for a few more words. Suddenly, she slammed the Bible closed. "Oh fine," she snarled. "I beg your pardon for a moment." With that she disappeared, reappearing moments later shrugging off the black robe of Death. "I'm terribly sorry about that, but it seems the Pope couldn't wait five more minutes to die," she explained. "Now where was I?" The priest, choir, organists, and any other Catholics present made the sign of the cross and bowed their head in a brief moment of sorrow. "Oh yes." Picking up where she left off, Sariel didn't seem to notice the stares of Lenore's family and friends.

The priest did his absolute best not to appear in awe of Sariel's appearance and disappearance, and led the congregation through a Responsorial Psalm. Lenore noted that Erik's 'guests' didn't participate, which actually made her quite glad, as it would have been mockery if they did.

When Mark and Tori had done their readings, the wedding party sat down (with the exception of Erik and Lenore, who remained kneeling on the cushions) and the priest delivered a short sermon about marriage.

"I now ask the congregation to stand," the priest said at the end of his sermon. As soon as everyone had risen (with the exception of Erik and Lenore, as they were not to move from their cushions until the final blessing had been given) and the wedding party had come forward once again, the priest addressed Erik. "Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to this woman in marriage?"

"I have," Erik answered.

"Will you love and honor her as your wife for the rest of your life?"

"I will," Erik promised.

"Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

"I will."

The priest then turned to Lenore. "Have you come here freely and without reservation to give yourself to this man in marriage?" he asked.

"I have," Lenore said as tears came charging forward. She held them back desperately, not wanting to cry through the ceremony.

"Will you love and honor him as your husband for the rest of your life?"

"I will," she responded with a sniffle, the tears starting to win the battle.

"Will you accept children lovingly from God and bring them up according to the law of Christ and his Church?"

"I will." At least that statement didn't give her tears more strength to break free of her control. She already knew they wouldn't have children and it really didn't bother her that much. She'd never really been fond of children.

"Since it is your intention to enter into this marriage, I ask that the father of the bride come forward and join this couple's right hands as a sign of his consent," the priest continued.

Hiroshi rose and approached the two as Erik and Lenore turned on their cushions to face one another. Taking Lenore's right hand, he gave it a quick kiss before taking Erik's hand and joining the two.

When Hiroshi returned to his seat, the priest spoke again. "At this time, I ask that you declare your consent before God and his Church."

"I, Erik, take you, Lenore, to be my wife. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life," Erik vowed.

"I, Lenore," she began, pausing to sniffle as the tears won the fight and started to make their way down her cheeks, "take you, Erik, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life."

"You have declared your consent before the Church. May the Lord in His goodness strengthen your consent and fill you both with His blessings. What God has joined, men must not divide. Amen," the priest said. Diego came forward with the rings, and Ember and Darius took the rings from the boy before handing them to the priest. "May the Lord bless these rings which you give to each other as the sign of your love and fidelity," the man continued as he blessed the rings.

The priest extended the Bible with the rings on it, and Erik took the ring he had purchased for Lenore, a platinum band with a single round diamond. "With this ring, I thee wed, in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. With all my worldly goods I thee endow," Erik recited as he slid the ring onto her left hand.

Lenore reached out a trembling hand and took the ring she had chosen, also a platinum band with Celtic braids engraved on the outside. Inside was the phrase "Nunc scio quit sit amor" which was translated "Now I know what love is". She did her best to keep her voice steady when she replied, "Take this ring as a sign of my love and fidelity, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. With all my worldly goods I thee endow."

* * *

The last of the guests who had participated in the Eucharist were returning to their seats. Erik knew that in ten minutes, this wedding would be official. Nothing could ruin this moment.

A squeak suddenly echoed through the practically silent Madeleine. Everyone immediately turned in the direction of the squeak. There sat Bishop on the front pew, that stupid toy in his mouth, looking somewhat embarrassed at having disturbed the silence. The cat timidly released the toy, which made a softer but still audible squeak when it hit the bench.

Lenore, who had been in tears of joy since making her vows, started to giggle. Erik squeezed her hands gently to get her attention and gave her a stern look that he hoped would help her regain a more serious attitude. She mouthed the words 'I'm sorry' while trying desperately to get her laughter under control. After a few moments, she regained her composure.

The priest gave the final blessing and the entire wedding party moved to the sacristy to sign the register while the congregation sang the closing hymn. When it was finally their turn, Erik signed his first name in perfect script, then gave Lenore the pen, who signed her first name with a trembling hand. Erik fully expected her to give the pen back, but instead she proceeded to sign their last name. _Our last name._ Such a simple, yet wonderful thought.

Returning to the altar, Erik was pleased to see Lenore remembered not to kneel on the cushions. (She'd had so many problems with that in rehearsal.) As the congregation fell silent at the end of the hymn, the priest spoke. "You may now kiss the bride," he told Erik.

Erik lifted the veil, carefully folding it back over the tiara. She was close to tears again. Even though it would cheer her up immensely, a passionate kiss would be inappropriate at the moment. This kiss would have to be simple. His gloved hand gently tilted her chin up and his lips met hers in a tender kiss that lasted for a few brief seconds.

"I have the pleasure of presenting to you on this fine day Monsieur and Madam Erik Dessler," the priest declared.

* * *

"Remind me why we need so many photographs," Erik murmured in her ear as the photographer's assistant rounded up Lenore's immediate family for a few shots.

"Because I want them," Lenore replied with a smile.

"But why a photograph with family? Whatever do we need that for?" Erik complained. "I'd think you'd prefer to forget them, especially your mother."

"In a sense, she's your mother too, now," Lenore practically beamed. "I'm sure you'll learn to love listening to the same lectures over and over, and pretending to actually listen to what she says and change your oh-so-naughty ways."

"I'm beginning to question my sanity," Erik mumbled. "What possessed me to marry into this family?"

"What are you complaining about?" Lenore returned. "Just think of the family I married into!" A quick gesture of her hand took in the Condemned Circle.

"Yes, well…They won't bother us. Often," Erik ascertained.

"Alright," the photographer said happily. It seemed the assistant had gathered her immediate family together for pictures, and the photographer began arranging the group.

After multiple shots with her immediate family, the groom's family was called for. The Condemned Circle came forward, some rather slowly and unconcernedly, others bouncing forward enthusiastically (Satan being one of the eager members of Erik's 'family'). Hiroshi stayed where he was.

"Mr. Wolfe, I think"- the photographer began to say.

"Oh, I'm related to both of them," Hiroshi replied with a smile.

The photographer opened his mouth to dispute Hiroshi's claim, but Lenore stopped him. "This is fine. Let's just take the pictures; we have a reception to be getting to, after all." After the shots had been taken, Lenore whipped around and glared at the immortals who'd been standing behind her. "Whichever one of you groped me is dead," she hissed. Erik added his glare to hers, narrowing his eyes as he studied the immortals that were suspected.

"That would be me," Satan admitted.

Lenore grit her teeth and tried to count to ten to cool off. She ended up having to count to thirty before she could address him without losing her temper and just punching the bastard. "I'm a married woman, so keep your hands off or lose them," she snarled.

Erik gently moved Lenore to the side, then decked the prince of darkness. Some members of the Circle chuckled in amusement, others worriedly dropped down beside Satan, fanning him and imploring him to come around, and Raghnall quickly scribbled down a few notes. The photographer looked severely worried; Lenore doubted the man ever had the groom punch someone from the groom's own family before.

"It's a very…unique family," Lenore said in explanation. "Did you happen to get a picture of Erik decking Lucifer?"

"Well, it just so happens I did," the photographer replied, looking at her curiously.

"Good, I'll want eight copies of that," Lenore smiled.

"I would think one would suffice," Erik commented.

"Seven are for the thank you cards for the archangels. I think that'd be the perfect picture for their cards, don't you?"

"Kitten, that's not very nice of you," Hiroshi chided. "Just think how Lucifer will feel when he finds out."

"It wasn't very nice of him to grope me, just think how I felt when I found out," Lenore replied sweetly.

A mass of photographs later, Erik and Lenore were seated in the back of a horse drawn carriage, on their way to the reception in the Opera House. Bishop had gone on ahead with Uriel, which Lenore was actually quite thankful for as she didn't want cat fur all over her gown. (Had Bishop been along, he would be quivering on her lap, shedding enough fur to make five other cats.)

"So, there hasn't been any bloodshed yet," Lenore remarked.

"I'm quite surprised Michael's restrained himself this long," Erik replied.

"Archangels are from Heaven, they're perfect. It's the Circle we have to watch," Lenore said.

"Well, we don't have to worry about Raghnall; he's far too busy taking notes on your entire family."

"Oh God," Lenore sighed, imagining him interrogating one of her family members right now.

"God has nothing to do with it."

"If He has any sense, one of the archangels will find a way to keep Raghnall occupied," she prayed.

"Must we discuss this?" Erik sighed in annoyance.

"What do you mean by that? I'm merely concerned that our reception will be ruined by your dysfunctional family."

"This is our wedding day, chérie. Perhaps, for once, we could converse without bringing up immortals or archangels," Erik suggested.

"You're a regular comedian," Lenore responded.

"I was serious," Erik informed her.

"When they're all at our wedding and reception, and one of the archangels is a bridesmaid, an immortal is my father, and an immortal is your best man, it becomes a bit difficult not to talk about them."

"Forget that they're archangels or immortals. Just think of them as normal people for tonight," Erik proposed.

"I suppose I'll need some to distraction to manage that," Lenore said with a devious grin. "Oh, Erik, just so you know, people are going to tap their glasses with a spoon at random moments during dinner. Whenever they do that, it means we're supposed to kiss. They won't stop until we do, so be prepared to comply in a timely fashion."

"What a joy this will be," Erik said sarcastically. "Would you please explain the point of the reception again?"

"No. I've told you a million times before, and if you haven't grasped it yet, then you're never going to."

"You seem to be a bit short on nerves," Erik commented. He leaned over and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

"I think I'll need a bit more than that to make me loosen up," Lenore told him.

"There's only so much I can do in the back of a carriage, ma petite."

"Then get started," she giggled.

Erik smirked before pulling her in for a passionate, soul-stealing kiss. She felt him link with her mind as he pulled away and moments later, she was panting with ecstasy as she came to orgasm. _Dear God, he's not even touching me. Quite a talented husband I have._

The display of Erik's talents wrapped up mere moments before the carriage halted outside the Opera House. "You're naughty," Lenore scolded him.

"It's not at all improper, seeing as how we're married," Erik replied with a mischievous smirk.

"You and your logic," she sighed as he got out of the carriage then offered her a hand. She took the proffered assistance, despite the fact that she was more than capable of stepping out of a carriage by herself.

* * *

Erik was going to hunt down whomever had thought up the stupid tradition of having people tap glasses with a spoon to get the newlyweds to kiss, and when he found this person, he would torment their soul for eternity. The main course had just been served, and Erik had already lost count of the number of times during the entrée that they had to pause in the middle of eating to quiet the racket made by people wanting to see them kiss.

_There it goes again…_ Erik thought bitterly as he heard someone tapping their spoon on their glass. Moments later, most of the guests had joined that person. _Perhaps…_ Erik quickly moved his plate, glass, and utensils off to the side, confusing Darius quite a bit in the process. Erik then proceeded to move Lenore's things, which she protested as quietly as she knew how (in other words, kicking him under the table). Once things were out of the way, Erik stood, picked her up out of her chair, and laid her down on the table as he began kissing her rather passionately.

As he slid his tongue into her mouth, he climbed onto the table, straddling her. Perhaps if the guests got the impression things might get out of hand, they'd stop tapping their glasses.

"Save it for the honeymoon, Erik," Hiroshi called out.

"Shush!" Raghnall chided. "This is a spectacular opportunity for study!"

"You shut up, you freak," Mrs. Parker snarled at Raghnall. "Lenore, behave yourself!"

"Technically, it's Erik that's misbehaving," Hiroshi pointed out. "And even then, you can't really blame him. It wasn't his idea that someone should tap their glass."

"Lenore, get off that table!" Mrs. Parker commanded, blushing with embarrassment at her daughter's scandalous behavior.

Lenore complied with her mother's wishes, but not in the manner her mother meant. Lenore wrapped her arms around Erik's neck and her legs around his waist, pulling her body up off the table.

"Well you know she's a Parker," her uncle Beanie called out.

"Erik, do try to remember that there are young impressionable children present," Kathleen pointed out. "Like Lucinda."

Erik climbed down off the table, returning to his seat, still locked in the kiss. Lenore finally broke it, and she smiled down at him. "You're incorrigible," she accused, removing her limbs from his person.

"And you enjoy it," Erik replied as she seated herself in her chair.

"Yes, though I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing," Lenore said as Ember handed Lenore her plate and glass.

"Since you enjoy it, the natural assumption would be that it's good."

"If you say so," she chuckled. "But you know, you really shouldn't've laid me out on the table like that. My mom hates you enough as it is."

"I really don't see how she could possibly hate me any more than she already does, so it makes no difference," Erik muttered.

"Just smile and pretend to like her, for my sake," Lenore instructed.

"You want me to lie?"

"I didn't say lie; I said pretend. It's like playing a game."

"I don't like that game," Erik informed her.

"Neither do I, but I play it. And if I have to, then you do too."

"That's rather cruel."

"It's a harsh world aboveground, Erik," Lenore replied.

"Sounds like something I would say," he murmured under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, chérie."

"Don't make me kick you again," she threatened.

"If you do, I'll tip you out of that chair," Erik warned.

Lenore's face darkened; she knew he'd keep that promise and she didn't want to be embarrassed like that in front of these people. "Just wait till we're alone," she hissed.

"You're the one who wanted the reception, ma chouchoute," Erik said with a laughing smile. "Otherwise, we would be alone right now."

"Don't think you're going to have a pleasant wedding night," Lenore informed him, anger flashing in her eyes.

"We both know you can't stay mad at me for long," Erik pointed out. "And if you were absolutely determined to ruin the night…well, I can easily change your mind." He made sure to put special emphasize on the word 'change'.

"Rotten knave," she insulted him.

"Once again, you accuse me of being dishonest. I really must protest such accusations, darling," Erik sighed.

Their bickering continued throughout dinner, and if the sound of idle chatter had not been present, Erik would've thought they were back in the lair, so many years ago, sharing a meal together. They only quieted when Darius stood to make the first toast.

"Where to begin," Darius sighed once everyone had quieted down. "I don't think Allah ever created two people who were so alike. I rather feel that you deserve each other, and the hell you will suffer over the most ridiculous things, such as repainting the bedroom, or purchasing new furniture. I do not mean that in a cruel fashion. I just rather feel it's about time Erik found someone who has the nerve to challenge his authority. From what I've seen of Lenore, it would seem she's also due to find someone who won't let her have her way all the time. I believe this marriage will help both of you grow as people, and I wish you many occasions to embrace such growth. To the bride and groom."

The room echoed the last phrase and sipped their champagne as Darius took a seat, looking relieved that his toast was over.

"Gee, Darius, that was…different," Ember said politely as she stood to give her toast. "Most of you don't know this, but Lenore knew this was coming from the very beginning. I recall the first time I saw the two of them together. Erik had a knife at her throat and threatened to kill her if I told anyone I'd seen him. I asked her if she was trying to get herself killed, and she immediately defended him, and went on to claim they had chemistry. Her words went something along the lines of "We haven't had dinner together or anything, but I think we might have a special connection. We met, I screamed, he demanded money…all the classic beginnings of a romance." So as you see, long before anything began, our Lenore just knew. Then there was their first…outing together. I helped Erik pick out clothes, as I couldn't possibly let him go out in that ancient, fancy attire, no matter how sexy he looked in it. So I took him shopping for some modern clothes that would do him justice. We had a bit of difficulty finding pants that fit, but in the end, it all worked out, and I accompanied them on their date to the Louvre. Despite my good intentions, that didn't work out quite like I planned it. It seems the best laid plans always end up falling apart. I remember another such occasion upon which Rosalyn and myself helped Lenore into a rather seductive little outfit to encourage physical intimacy. Once again, something went wrong and the plan failed. Despite these failures, in the dark basement of the Opera House, Cupid managed to find his target. He shot his arrow with amazing precision and perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm, as love gave Erik the courage to stand up to our mother. I remember quite vividly the night he slapped Mom, challenged her ownership of Lenore, and threatened her life. I was trying to figure out who was going to kill who first, or if they'd manage to kill each other at the same moment. Erik decided to be a gentleman, though, whisking Lenore away without murdering our mother. That night, he proposed to her in a rather…unique fashion. And the first thing she said after that proposal was "Erik, did you drink a lot of wine with dinner?" Not exactly what a man wants to hear when he proposes marriage. The next day, Erik told her he would wait as long as it took for her to want to be his bride. And I give him props for loyalty, let me tell you. This man has been waiting for twenty two years. He waited through the time she ran away and was put in the psych ward, he waited through the month she spent in Italy, he waited through her indecision after she saw beneath the mask, he waited through her death and the following years while she grew up all over again, he waited through her very brief opera career, he waited through her vacation in Hawaii…Erik is unbelievably devoted to Lenore, and I doubt anyone can show me another man who would've waited and remained faithful through all that. And Lenore…let me just say, I've never met a woman so stubborn that she wouldn't give up on this romance. Erik can have quite a temper, and any other woman would've given up moments after the first quarrel. But Lenore stuck it out, even though he always got the better of her in every altercation, despite the times he slammed her into a wall, or slapped her, or washed her mouth out with soap, or spanked her for not taking her medicine, and any other occasions I haven't had the privilege of being informed of. Erik, may your loyalty never fade, despite how indecisive and difficult my sister will prove to be. Lenore, cling to your stubborn nature, as I'm certain there will be many quarrels in the future. Perhaps, just for tonight, you two could manage to stop fighting and enjoy the celebratory atmosphere, instead of threatening to kick one another, tip each other out of chairs, deny one another the bliss of the wedding night, and any of the other threats you exchanged during the meal just now. To the bride and groom, may they manage to find happiness and avoid having children."

The guests raised their glasses and drank, still chuckling from Ember's toast.

Lenore stood at this time. "Well, apparently I'm supposed to toast my parents. But before I do that, I've got another toast I want to make, as I feel I rather owe him one due to the absolutely beautiful things he said about me on Thanksgiving. He told us why he loved me, and that he was thankful for me, and I've yet to return the favor. To an arrogant, possessive, stubborn man, I raise my glass. He guides me through the darkness that I find alluring, keeping me safe from harm no matter how difficult a task I manage to make that. He understands and agrees with my view of society, and he has seen me more clearly than anyone else on this earth. For telling me he loved me and waiting for so very long to come to this day, and for not letting little facts like mortality get in the way of our relationship, he is to be commended. As Judy Garland said, "For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul." To Erik."

Erik was blushing furiously under the mask for having received such compliments from Lenore. She quickly moved on with the next toast, so attention didn't linger on him.

"Now, here is where this becomes difficult, having two rather separate parenting experiences in my life. Firstly, I propose we drink to the father that can't be here today, the man who showed me how to endure countless pains and sufferings the world would throw at me. The world would pile burdens on him, and he never said "it's not fair" or "I'm not going to deal with this because I don't want to". He said "this is the way it is and I'm going to deal with this because I have to, because ignoring it or giving up won't make it better". If I hadn't seen such strength when I was growing up, I have no doubt that I would've drowned in despair and given up on life after the accident. Without him, I wouldn't have pulled through that difficult time, and I never would've met Erik; I wouldn't be here without the strength he gave me." Tears were making steady paths down Lenore's face, but her voice had been firm. At this point, however, it broke. "And Daddy, I wish you could be here today, because I know that, even though you'd hate him for taking me away, you'd see that this man possesses all of your positive traits. He's honest and loyal. He's got that strength you gave me. He knows that sometimes, I'm a little girl who needs protection, and other times, I'm a woman who needs to be free to make her own decisions and learn life's lessons for herself. He warns me not to run, because he knows I'll trip and scrape my knees. And when that happens because I wouldn't listen, because I was too busy trying to be a woman, he'll pick me up and kiss away the tears the little girl cries from being hurt. He gets me up early in the morning, complaining that I'm wasting the day by laying in bed, and he tells me that I shouldn't eat so much chocolate because it's not good for me. He does his best to look out for me, just like you used to do. To my father."

The guests somberly drank to that toast, a good many of them close to or actually in tears.

"As for my mother. You gave me a beautiful dream, even though it was never your intent. You were always so concerned about what society sees, how people judge others. You taught me that living up to expectations could take you anywhere, could let you be anything. So I practiced and practiced, until I was a perfect actress who could know and live up to the expectations of everyone I met. I've been so many things to so many different people. I've been a friend, a close companion, a perfect daughter, a diva, a lover, a fighter, a rebel, a conformist…you name it, I've successfully played that part. I can be anything, no matter my past or how I feel at the moment. So don't ever tell anyone they can't be something, or they can't do something. Because I know that's not true. All you have to do is want it bad enough," Lenore said. "To my mother."

"Hiroshi," Lenore sighed after everyone drank to Mrs. Parker. "Well, you always gave me everything I wanted. Granted, I didn't get that doll house the day I wanted it, but I did get it eventually. Not only did you give me everything I wanted, you gave me talents Erik wished I had been privileged to have in my First Life, like being able to play the piano. You were always there right when I needed you, you always knew when something was wrong. And you told me to never let little things get me down, not to let the fact that I didn't have friends bother me. You assured me that there was a beautiful happily ever after waiting for me, if I could just hang on for a little while longer, just keep trying for a few more days. Most importantly, you brought me back to Erik. I honestly never expected that from you. You gave me that Second Life, and I was sure you'd leave me to my own devices, but instead, you jumped in and didn't hesitate to get your hands dirty clearing the road you knew I would want to take and then guiding me down it. To Hiroshi, for giving far more than he had to."

Hiroshi actually seemed somewhat embarrassed by her words; Erik could tell the man was blushing. Done with her toasts, Lenore reseated herself. Hiroshi stood, giving what would be the last toast of the evening.

"I'm deeply touched that you believe I gave more than I had to. I always worried that I wasn't giving enough," Hiroshi began. "Erik, you are a friend I deeply cherish. When I learned what was going to happen to Lenore, I knew you'd be deeply hurt. I came to visit, so that I would recognize her when she came for Judgment, I arranged for her to be offered Second Life, and it was all done to please you. Erik, when you died in my arms so long ago, I felt something I'd never felt before. Unselfish love for another. I knew how horrible your past had been, and I wanted everything else to be perfect for you for the rest of time. I hated how unfair and cruel Fate had been, and I wanted to do everything I could to force Fate to do my bidding and make everything wonderful for you. When Christine did not return with you, I felt as if I had failed. I kept looking back, trying to figure out what I'd done wrong. It took me quite a long time to ask Lucifer why my plan had backfired. And he laughed at me, making me feel like such a fool. Because Christine was never meant for you. She did not have the capacity to love you, she didn't have the stubbornness and determination to make you see her as a person instead of an object, and she was quite incapable of ever growing up, of ever needing a lover instead of a father. Fate had not only marred your appearance, it seemed she had thrown you into a time you did not belong in, a time where you would never find a woman who would be meant for you. But then, there came along a little girl, who wasn't the most beautiful and knew that personality far surpassed looks when it came to relationships. A little girl who was so tired of always being in the light, that she wanted to run for the shadows and hide in darkness, if only someone else who could love her would be there with her, keeping her safe and warm. Plans were set in motion, to do everything we could to bring her to you. Everything seemed to go right; she got excellent grades without much effort and we manage to ensure her scholarships. Our intention was for her to go to Harvard or Yale, become a wealthy businesswoman and meet you when she was around the age of twenty eight. But we stumbled when she was eighteen, tripping over part of God's plan we hadn't seen. Lucifer saw an opportunity to mold her for you even more than she already was, and took it. And so we created a new plan and pushed it forward. But it seems we shouldn't have been running, because we tripped again over that heart condition. I was determined to make sure we got everything right the third time around. When I claimed to be her father for her Second Life, it was out of love for you. But as she grew, I started to understand why you loved her, to see the beauty inside that she hid from me in her First Life. And so I came to do things out of love for her, sometimes quite forgetting that Erik was the reason I began being a father in the first place. But one day, I looked at her, and the child was gone, replaced by a woman. I knew then that I was going to make the two most important people of my life happy, that I was going to give them a fairy tale ending that they both very much deserved. May you have the most blissful of marriages, with few bumps in the road. And if Fate tries to mess things up, let me know and I'll go beat the snot out of that bitch. To the bride and groom."

Though not sure they understood everything he'd said, the guests took another sip of the champagne.

"I've had enough of this emotional soberness, so I believe it's time we moved on," Hiroshi said. "Start the music, George." George, Olivia's boyfriend, was the DJ for the night. (Erik was still a bit uncertain as to what a disc jockey was, much less what a disc jockey did. Lenore had told him that a disc jockey had nothing to do with horses, but Erik couldn't see how a jockey could exist without having some relation to horses.)

* * *

"Yo, 'sup people?" George said into the microphone. "I'm gonna need the bride and the groom on the dance floor, cuz we gotta do that whole first dance thing."

Lenore shook her head, still wondering why they'd agreed to let George be the DJ. _Oh well, can't change it now._

"Come on," Lenore said to Erik, standing up.

"Do we really have to do this?" Erik asked, already getting up and taking her hand.

"Do you really have to ask?" Lenore replied.

"If I say no, does that mean we don't have to do it?"

"You could say 'pink elephants' and still have to do it," Lenore answered as they headed for the center of the entrance hall. (Dinner had been taken along the side of the entrance hall, and George was set up in a balcony above the main floor.)

"Okay, it looks like they've reached the center. Can't really tell, I'm so far away from the whole thing," George complained. "Anyway, it's my honor to present to you in public for the first time, unless you count the church, Erik and Lenore Dessler."

The music began to play, and Lenore slipped the middle finger of her left hand into the small loop Erik had placed on the skirt of her gown so that she could lift the train and make dancing easier. The song was a karaoke version, as Lenore wanted to sing this song with Erik rather than just dance to it. Lenore began:

We were strangers, starting out on a journey.

Never dreaming what we'd have to go through.

Now here we are and I'm suddenly standing

At the beginning with you.

Erik took the next few lines:

No one told me I was going to find you.

Unexpected, what you did to my heart.

Lenore joined in with a harmony at this point.

When I lost hope, you were there to remind me

This is the start.

Life is a road and I want to keep going.

Love is a river I want to keep flowing.

Life is a road, now and forever,

Wonderful journey.

I'll be there when the world stops turning,

I'll be there when the storm is through.

In the end I want to be standing at the beginning

With you.

The next lines were back to Lenore solo.

We were strangers

On a crazy adventure.

Then Erik took over once again.

Never dreaming

How our dreams would come true.

This time, Lenore took the melody and Erik slid into a harmony.

Now here we stand, unafraid of the future.

At the beginning with you.

And life is a road and I want to keep going.

Love is a river I want to keep flowing.

Life is a road, now and forever,

Wonderful journey.

I'll be there when the world stops turning.

I'll be there when the storm is through.

In the end I want to be standing at the beginning

With you.

At this point, they both had the melody.

I knew there was somebody somewhere,

Like me alone in the dark.

Now I know my dream will live on

I've been waiting so long.

Nothing's going to tear us apart.

Life is a road and I want to keep going,

Love is a river I want to keep flowing.

Life is a road, now and forever,

Wonderful journey.

I'll be there when the world stops turning.

I'll be there when the storm is through.

In the end I want to be standing at the beginning

With you.

Life is a road and I want to keep going,

Love is a river I want to keep going on…

Starting out on a journey.

Life is a road and I want to keep going,

Love is a river I want to keep flowing.

In the end I want to be standing at the beginning

With you.

As the last few strands of the music floated through the air, Lenore slid her arms around Erik's neck, pulling him down for a kiss. "I like irony," she whispered when they broke apart. Erik raised an eyebrow questioningly. "The first time you spoke to me, I was standing in the entrance hall. Maybe not this exact spot, but…we're standing at the beginning."

"So we are. But this time, I'm not in the walls," Erik replied. "I find it an improvement."

"I'm quite fond of it myself. Kinda hard to dance with someone if they're hidden in the wall."

"Okay, now we've got the father bride dance," George announced.

Erik escorted Lenore over to Hiroshi. Lenore was actually glad to see Hiroshi for once; her mother had tried desperately to have it be a mother bride dance, but Lenore used the excuse that Hiroshi was a father to her, and since she had a father, she should do the father bride dance.

"I didn't think you'd want to dance with me; you were never very fond of me in First Life," Hiroshi commented softly as they took the dance floor.

"Well, you're a hell of a lot better choice than my mom. And besides, you were a good dad," Lenore responded.

Lenore had chosen "Because You Loved Me" by Celine Dion for this dance. Most of the traditional father bride songs just weren't right for them, but this song felt right to her. She had opted not to sing this one, which turned out to be a good thing. Barely thirty seconds into the song, she was already crying.

"Don't start that," Hiroshi whispered. "If you cry, then I'm going to cry."

"I can't help it," she sniffled. "Everything's going to change, and I won't be with you anymore."

"I could move in with you and Erik," Hiroshi proposed. She chuckled in spite of her tears. "Well, everything is going to change, that's true. And you won't be living with me anymore, another fact that can't be disputed. But that doesn't mean I'll stop being your father. So there's nothing to cry about. And I'll come visit. As often as you like."

When the song ended, Lenore did one thing she'd never thought she'd do. She hugged him with all the strength she possessed. One last moment of clinging to her father, one last moment of being a little girl who was scared to be on her own. "I love you, Daddy," she whispered in his ear. And she meant it; memories from her Second Life had showed her a side of this man that she wouldn't have believed existed, and she knew that the only thing that kept her from loving him as a father had been her stubborn hatred from First Life.

"I love you too, kitten," he replied.

* * *

Erik checked his pocket watch. Almost seven thirty. The reception had begun two hours ago. After the first few dances, there had been more pictures, and then more dancing. There was a good deal of socializing mixed into all that, and Erik wondered exactly how much longer this reception was going to last.

Lenore was hanging on his arm, talking with one of her aunts, or maybe it was a cousin. He wasn't really sure. Olivia came over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Time to cut the cake," she whispered.

"Chérie, I believe we have somewhere to be," Erik said to Lenore, interrupting her conversation.

"Oh, alright. I'll talk to you later, Tamara," Lenore promised as Erik dragged her to the cake.

"You know, I find weddings have far too many traditions that require execution," Erik complained. "I'd like to be in our hotel suite at a reasonable hour tonight."

"We'll get there eventually, don't fret," Lenore advised. "And whatever you do, don't drop cake down my dress."

"I had no intentions of staining the garment," Erik replied.

"Mark dropped cake down Tori's dress at their wedding," Lenore explained. "A bit of the icing was in plain sight on her bosom and Mark didn't hesitate to lick it off. But I'd rather not have you do that in front of my mom. I know we're married, but I think she's had all she can take what with the table incident."

"Well, I'll try not to let my fingers slip," Erik promised.

"If your fingers slip, mine just might mash the cake in your face," she chuckled, clearly not meaning a word of that.

George announced the cutting of the cake moments after Erik and Lenore reached the table holding that exquisite specimen of cake. When the guests had gathered around, George started the music. Erik didn't recognize the song, but Lenore seemed to, for she started laughing.

"Pour Some Sugar On Me by Def Leppard," she explained as she picked up the knife with her right hand.

Not the explanation meant anything to Erik. He placed his left hand over her right, as he was left-handed and therefore needed to use his dominant hand if they wanted to make a cut resembling a straight line.

When they had the first slice, Erik took a small chunk of it and prayed that he didn't drop any down her dress. The lyrics to this song were quite…interesting, to say the least. He extended his hand and Lenore leaned forward a bit, taking the cake from his fingers with her mouth. Before he could retract his hand, she grabbed his wrist and licked the icing off his fingers in a rather suggestive manner. _And you advised me not to lick icing off your breasts as you thought your mother wouldn't be able to tolerate it?_

Lenore got a piece of the cake in her hands and held it out to him. She was singing along with the chorus, the lines "Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough." Erik tried not to chuckle as he ate the cake from her fingers, returning the favor she'd bestowed on him and making certain her fingers were devoid of any icing before he pulled away.

As the cake was sliced by one of the caterers to be served to the guests, Lenore made her way up the central stairs, stopping a foot onto the landing that housed his trap door for quick escapes.

"I want all the single ladies over the age of thirteen to get together at the bottom of the stairs. It's time for the bouquet toss," George informed the crowd.

A rather large cluster of women stood at the bottom of the stairs. (Erik certainly wasn't surprised to find Christi among them; only a man who lacked intelligence would marry that creature.) The song I Want Candy started playing, and Lenore turned her back to the women. He knew she wasn't aiming for anyone in particular, as some women were rumored to do.

The bouquet went sailing and the cluster of women seemed to writhe like a pit of snakes as it descended. Two different hands clasped the bouquet and Erik heard Christi shout, "GET OFF, IT'S MINE!"

"NO WAY, IT'S MINE!" Olivia argued.

"There are a dozen roses, you could split it and share," Lenore proposed from the top of the stairs.

"No, it's mine!" both girls yelled at the same time. The cluster of women was dispersing, and the two women clutching the flowers were clearly visible. And the girls seemed to be done with talking about it, as they started swinging fists at one another and kicking viciously. Within moments, the two were rolling around on the floor, each with a hand still firmly gripping the bouquet.

Raghnall walked over to the brawling women unconcernedly and began prying Christi's hand from the bouquet. "Let go of it, Christiana. I plan to study you for a good hundred years or more, thus Olivia's bound to get married before you," Raghnall said.

"Stay out of this, you damn demon," Christi hissed, trying to fend off Raghnall and Olivia both now.

Moments later, Raghnall was dragging a struggling Christi over to his seat while Olivia crowed over having won the bouquet.

Erik headed for the stairs, grabbing a chair along the way. _Why do we have to do this bit with the garter?_ Reaching the landing, he set the chair down and Lenore immediately plopped down on it.

"Now, Erik is about to boldly go where no man has gone before in quest of the sacred relic known as the garter," George called out.

Erik blushed beneath the mask. _Why do they have to make this sound so horribly epic? I'm merely removing a simple article of clothing. _As the music started, Erik got down on his knees, going for the hem of the gown. The lyrics registered in the back of his mind, something about loosening up buttons. Erik lifted the gown almost to her knee, and Lenore shifted the position of her leg, making him chase after it. She gave him a little smirk and it became a battle; every time he came close to catching hold of the garter, she moved her leg somewhere else and he had to relocate it all over again. He was distracted when she sang a few lines:

You've been sayin' all the right things all night long,

But I can't seem to get you over here to help take this off.

_Have it your way_. Erik, lunged forward, knocking the chair over backwards and pinning her beneath him. In moments, he managed to pin her left leg in place and his hands located the garter with ease. Most brides tended to slip the garter down to around the knee so that it would be easy to locate and she could keep her gown hem down a good bit. But Lenore had left it at it's proper position, and as such, the hem of her gown was currently situated around mid-thigh.

Erik noted that many of the men were cheering and most of the women chuckled good-naturedly. Mrs. Parker was scowling fiercely, the archangels were shaking their heads as if this were scandalous and should not be condoned, the members of the Circle were either chuckling amusedly or staring at Lenore's legs, and Hiroshi was actually praising Erik for that "spectacular show of dominance".

Lenore wriggled out from under him, suggestive smirks appearing on her face every few seconds, then made her way down the stairs.

"I need all the available men over thirteen at the bottom of the stairs," Mark announced, having taken over for George. "And Erik, George asked that you aim for him, as Olivia will kill him if he doesn't catch it. Personally, I say you aim as far from George as possible."

Erik saw Christi struggling in Raghnall's grip, shouting quite loudly that she wanted to catch something, so let her go! Hopefully this could be done before that creature managed to free herself and join the flock of men awaiting the garter toss.

* * *

Lenore tried her best to ignore Christi's shouts as "Sexy Boy" started to play. Erik turned his back to the men and gave the garter a rather good throw. It went flying far beyond where the men had gathered, and as such, the men turned and started running after it, staring up at it without paying the slightest bit of attention as to where they were headed. It reminded Lenore of football.

A hand shot up into the air and snatched the garter from its flight. The men fell in a pile, as if tackling the quarterback. After a few moments of men trying to untangle themselves from the heap, George shot up from the floor. "Olivia, I got it!"

Of course, had the men been paying any attention, they would've realized their tackle had occurred right in front of Raghnall and Christi. Christi finally broke free of Raghnall and leapt onto George.

"Your bitch took my bouquet!" she snarled as she started punching him. "Give me that garter!"

"Christiana, don't make me have to give you another tranquilizer," Raghnall sighed as he pushed men aside to get to her.

"I deserve something from this wedding!" Christi proclaimed. "I didn't put up with Lenore all those years for nothing! Now I want my reward!"

"I'll let you have Veleno if you'll behave yourself," Raghnall offered as he pulled her off of George. "You'll like Veleno, he's a spider demon."

_If I remember correctly, Erik said they weren't allowed to mention anything that isn't related to the mortal realm. Last time I checked, demons were related to the realm of Hell._ Lenore shook her head.

"Okay, George and Olivia, come on up," Mark said, sounding terribly perturbed. "George, you need to put the garter on Olivia. Every inch above the knee is worth five years good luck. And George? Don't give the Desslers too much luck."

George wasted no time in putting the garter on Olivia's leg, and Mark went to measure how far up it was. George earned a dark glare. He'd gotten it a good twelve inches up Olivia's thigh, coming rather close to a very personal area.

"Mark, I want my extra twenty years of good luck," Lenore called out.

"No, George has done enough," Mark argued.

"George, if you can get it off with your teeth, I get more luck," Lenore informed the boy.

"You've got sixty years, how much more do you need?" Tori snarled. She didn't want George removing the garter from her daughter's leg with his teeth, especially considering where the boy had put it.

"Go on, George, I won't let Mark hurt you," Jon promised.

George grinned devilishly and went after the garter.

* * *

Uriel had struggled to keep calm when Erik tackled Lenore off the chair. Bishop had told him that it was nothing to worry about, as the two had done the same sort of thing three times last night, though they'd taken off their fur for those occasions. (That was quite frankly far more than Uriel needed to know.)

He waited patiently through the garter toss and then that boy George placing the garter on Olivia's leg (and then removing it). When George had returned to his position as DJ and dancing had resumed, Uriel went to make a request.

* * *

"We've got a request here," George announced at the end of the song. Lenore looked at him curiously, as she hadn't anticipated requests for certain songs. "So, if Lenore would make sure she's on the dance floor…"

Lenore excused herself from her conversation and left Erik there as she made her way through the people who were looking at her curiously. The strands of music drifted over the floor and Uriel emerged from the crowd, extending his hand. She took it and he pulled her close. Uriel sang softly in her ear.

My life is brilliant.  
My love is pure.  
I saw an angel.  
Of that I'm sure.  
She smiled at me on the subway.  
She was with another man.  
But I won't lose any sleep on that,  
'Cause I've got a plan.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.  
I saw your face in a crowded place,  
And I don't know what to do.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

But I can't escape the truth.  
I will never be with you.

Yeah, she caught my eye  
As we walked on by.  
She could see from my face that I was,  
Flying high.  
And I don't think that I'll see her again,  
But we shared a moment that will last till the end.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.  
I saw your face in a crowded place,  
And I don't know what to do.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

But I can't escape the truth.  
I will never be with you.

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.  
You're beautiful, it's true.  
There must be an angel with a smile on her face  
When she thought up that I should be with you.  
But it's time to face the truth.  
I will never be with you.

Uriel released her then, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I wish you the best of luck," he told her. "Take good care of Bishop, alright?"

"I will," she promised. "Thank you."

* * *

Erik was getting increasingly…well…fidgety was the best way to describe it. They were almost finished opening the pile of presents, and Lenore said after that was done, they would have the last dance and then head for the hotel.

Erik had felt a good deal of anxiety when she was dancing with Uriel, but the lyrics of the song pacified him enough to keep him from going out there and seeing if he couldn't remove that other wing.

"I'm afraid to open this one," Lenore mumbled, picking up a gift whose tag claimed it was from the Condemned Circle. Erik didn't blame her. He wasn't even remotely curious as to what they'd gotten from the Circle. "You open this one," Lenore said decisively, handing him the box.

"Why me?" Erik inquired as he began slowly untying the ribbon.

"Because it's from your family."

"Our family."

"Fine, it's from your side of the family then."

Erik shook his head and opened the box. He looked up, glaring pointedly at the Circle.

"What'd we get?" Lenore asked, leaning over to have a peek. "Hm. Somehow, I wasn't expecting to receive something like that from your family. At least it's not some little mixed breed demon of Raghnall's creation."

The gift turned out to be a black leather thong that laced up the front, a black leather corset covered in chains with fishnet as the material for the cups, manacles, and a whip.

"Corrupt, sex-obsessed bastards," Erik mumbled under his breath. He knew that these would fit Lenore perfectly, as Hiroshi was sure to have given the Circle her exact measurements.

"I'm sure it could be worse," Lenore said comfortingly.

A few minutes later, the guests were dancing and mingling while Lenore and Ember organized the gifts and made a list of who'd given which gift so Lenore could send out thank you cards during the honeymoon. Erik stood close by, practically dying for this night of socializing to end.

"So, it seems you got some rather nice gifts," Satan commented, coming up to stand in front of him.

"I suppose," Erik shrugged, wondering what the point behind this idle chatter was.

"I'm sure it didn't escape your attention that you didn't get anything from me," Satan remarked in a not-so-subtle hint as to what his point might be.

"I noticed that. I figured it was a blessing and I should simply overlook your rude manners," Erik replied.

"Well, my gift is a bit hard to wrap up in a box with ribbons and tags," Satan explained. Suddenly, his hand touched Erik in a rather indecent place. Erik was reaching out to strangle him when Satan's hand dropped. "Twenty four hours, Erik."

"Twenty four hours what?" Erik snarled, still ready to choke the bastard.

"Twenty four hours that you're fertile. I suggest you make the most of it," Satan responded, turning to walk away. "This is a one time thing; I can't give you this opportunity again."

* * *

"Hello darling," Satan purred in her ear, standing behind her.

Lenore narrowed her eyes and continued scribbling out her list for thank you cards. "Go away," she said casually.

"That's not very nice; I'm family now," Satan informed her.

"No, you're not. And even if, in some twisted way, you are, I don't have to like you," Lenore pointed out.

"I'm sure you'll warm up to me eventually," Satan whispered in her ear as his hands snaked around her waist and rested on her lower abdomen. Just as she was about to verbally protest (and quite loudly so as to make certain someone removed Lucifer's hands from her person), he let go. "I'll see you in a few months. Have a nice honeymoon, darling."

"Well, that was just creepy," Ember commented.

"Wasn't it just?" Lenore agreed.

"I seriously think Erik was insane when he said they could come."

"I know he was insane at that moment."

"What did he say?" Erik asked, coming over to make sure Lenore hadn't been harmed by Satan.

"Oh, something about warming up to him," Lenore responded dismissively. "I'm a bit more concerned about where his hands were."

"And where precisely was that?" Erik said softly, his eyes narrowing and flicking over to where Satan was, conversing with Mrs. Parker.

"Right about here," Lenore informed him, gesturing to where Satan's hands had briefly rested.

Erik quirked an eyebrow momentarily before a smile crossed his lips. "Well, I suppose I can overlook it just this once," he mused.

"Such a caring husband, to let the devil all but molest you and get away with it," Ember quipped.

"I know. He just smothers me with protective tendencies," Lenore said.

"You speak of an altercation with the devil as if it were a simple schoolyard scuffle. Until you've tangled with Beelzebub, Ember, I suggest you don't contribute your opinion on such matters," Erik returned. There was a brief pause. "Are you almost done with that list?"

"About three quarters done," Lenore answered. "Don't worry, we'll get to the hotel soon enough."

"Pick up the pace," Erik commanded.

"I don't want to forget anybody," Lenore countered, not even bothering to speed up the process.

"I don't care if you forget someone," Erik snarled. "Finish this up in the next few minutes."

"It's gonna take at least ten," Lenore told him.

"That's not quick enough."

"If you don't like it, then go find something to occupy yourself with for the next ten minutes; time goes by faster when you're doing something. You could try conversing with people, there's a thought."

"You just slowed down deliberately, didn't you?" Erik accused.

"Hm, look at that, I did," Lenore shrugged.

"Ember can finish this by herself, I'm sure she wouldn't mind," Erik suggested.

"Marriage isn't all about sex, Erik," Lenore sighed, slowing down a bit more.

"Stop slowing down, woman!" Erik snapped. "While it's a nice thought and proper etiquette to send cards with thanks for the gifts, I rather find this to be ridiculous. Ember can finish this, and you can call her on the honeymoon to get the list."

"Or I could finish it now and not have to waste a half hour listening to her recite the names as I recopy them," Lenore said.

"I don't care if you spend a half hour recopying names."

"But it's our honeymoon. It's supposed to be our alone time. I'm thinking of you, really."

"You're making me wait," Erik snarled. "That would be evidence to the contrary, don't you agree?"

"Oh, stop whining. You can wait ten more minutes to have sex," Lenore grumbled. Erik suddenly snatched the paper from her hands. "Give that back!" she hissed, trying to reclaim her list.

Erik ignored her protests entirely, picking up where she left off, scribbling names down sloppily but legibly. Within three minutes the list was complete and Erik stuffed it into his pocket. "There, it's done," he said.

"You…you…" Lenore stuttered, seeming incapable of producing an insult.

"Perhaps you'd like to include a verb and a direct object in that sentence," Erik recommended. "You could even throw in an adjective for good measure."

"You want a verb, adjective, and direct object?" she snarled. "Fine. How about 'You are a fucking jackass'?"

"Watch your language," Erik admonished.

Lenore produced a few strangled noises, then smacked him on the arm in an attempt to feel slightly better.

"Not even married six hours, and already there's problems in paradise," Ember commented.

"You try living with the man sometime," Lenore griped.

"You're the one who decided to marry him," Ember returned.

"So I had a moment of poor judgment. So sue me," she snapped.

"Ember, would you inform George we're ready for the last dance?" Erik inquired, taking Lenore by the arm and heading for the dance floor.

"Sure, no problem," Ember said, making her way over to George.

"I should beat you," Lenore mumbled darkly.

"I believe that's called domestic abuse, and if I'm not mistaken that's frowned upon in the vast majority of society," he replied.

"Smartass."

"We're about to have the last dance, chérie. Surely you can manage to put your anger aside for that."

"I don't know, I'm rather upset."

Erik turned to face her and captured her lips in a kiss before she could say another word. He flooded her with passion and love, and her anger dissipated in the tidal wave of emotion.

"Cheater," she whispered with a smile when he pulled away.

"People! It's the last dance," George declared over the microphone. "So if you've been sitting on your butt all night, get up and get moving, this is your last chance!"

Lenore had selected "Love Changes Everything" for the final song. Rather than dancing a waltz with Erik (as he had insisted upon for the first dance), she let her skirt drag the ground as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him against her and resting her head against his chest. She closed her eyes and gave a contented sigh as the music washed over her.

Love, love changes everything,  
Hands and faces, earth and sky.  
Love, love changes everything,  
How you live and how you die.  
Love can make the summer fly  
Or a night seem like a lifetime.  
Yes love, love changes everything.  
Now I tremble at your name.  
Nothing in the world will ever be the same.

Love, love changes everything,  
Days are longer, words mean more.  
Love, love changes everything,  
Pain is deeper than before.  
Love will turn your world around,  
And that world will last forever.  
Yes love, love changes everything,  
Brings you glory, brings you shame.  
Nothing in the world will ever be the same.

Off into the world we go,  
Planning futures, shaping years.  
Love bursts in and suddenly all our wisdom disappears.  
Love makes fools of everyone.  
All the rules we made are broken.  
Yes love, love changes everyone,  
Live or perish in its flame.  
Love will never never let you be the same.  
Love will never never let you be the same.

* * *

"Aww, is the reception over?" Lenore asked Tammy.

"Yeah, that's it for the reception," Tammy replied.

"Thank God," Erik sighed in relief.

"I thought it was quite enjoyable," Raghnall remarked. "Christi, sit still."

"I wanna jump on people for great heights, yelling 'bonzai!' as I plummet onto my unsuspecting victims," Christi whined, struggling against the manacles from Hell.

"Oh, that could be a wonderfully entertaining observation," Raghnall mused. "Let's go out and see how many college students you can frighten." That said, he stood and pulled Christi behind him on her leash.

"About time they left, Christi was annoying me," Tammy muttered.

"Cupcake, could you please release me?" Hiroshi pleaded.

"No. Now be quiet or I'll poke you with the shocky spork again!" Tammy snapped, glaring at the immortal whose wrists and ankles were bound with a layer of duct tape, covered by a layer of rope, and manacles over the rope. "Erik, can I borrow the whip you got from the Circle?"

"Be my guest," he said, handing Tammy the whip.

"If you readers would be so kind as to review…" Tammy smiled. "I'll have to blare my music to ensure no one hears Hiroshi's yelps of pain. Living in a dorm can be such a pain at times."


	41. Chapter 41

MJ MOD: I see Satan and the Condemned Circle being allowed in a church because 1) the church is public and 2) God is supposed to welcome everyone into his house and all that jazz. And yes, the ceremony was long. The ceremony itself is usually about a hour to an hour and a half (that depends on the length of the Mass given). And the reception lasted a long time, but long parties are fun. Except for people like Erik who don't like socializing. And yeah, Bishop would be safe with Uriel, but Bishop's spending the honeymoon with Hiroshi. Christi…I'm quite sure she's not a demon from Hell. She's based on one of my friends (and it's a very accurate portrayal of the woman, let me tell you), and I refer to this friend as the Embodiment of Hell. So as you can see, she is Hell itself in human form. What did Satan do to Lenore...read on. Satan said he'd see them in three months, cuz that's when they come back from their honeymoon. He never really said anything about seeing her when she gives birth. But that's quite an interesting idea and I thank you for it.

Lady Taevyn: Yes, yay for the wedding. No, that was not the last we'll see of Christi…she always pops up at the worst moment when you least expect it…bah. Don't worry about Uriel being heartbroken, there are several readers that I'm sure are ready to comfort him (and I'm one of those volunteers ). Feed Christi to Veleno? Dude, Veleno would die, she's poisonous! And I kinda like Veleno, cuz he was so much fun to write. Not to mention if we feed Christi to Veleno, she might consider herself unique and important. We can't have that. Yes, a dorm is better than my house. Whether or not Erik and Lenore boink like rabid bunnies…

Lethia: Yes, he's fertile! ((dances happily with Lethia))

Jadesy: Yes, the toasts were touching…writing them made me cry. You're staring at Hiroshi like a creepy stalker woman? Be careful…he might find that attractive.

Shariena: I did miss your reviews, but it's quite understandable if you didn't have time to do so. I'm glad you liked the wedding and still love this story. It's very flattering that you think I'm the only one who can write angels, satan, and his people (among other things) into a story and make it work. ((blushes))

Artzee: Don't feel bad that it took forever to get to reviewing the last chapter. All you had to say was the word 'musical'. I've been in two musicals in high school myself, and I know how time-consuming and exhausting that is. And yes, let's hope that they 'do it' while Erik's fertile and (should Lenore get pregnant) that the baby isn't evil spawn of Satan.

Black Hole Phoenix: Yay!!! You caught up! And look, I made this chapter kinda shorter than normal, just for you! Lol, yes, Lenore got groped by Satan. (You know, I'm really mental, I almost wrote that as Satan got groped by Lenore…as entertaining as that thought is…no.) Yeah, check it out, Hiroshi has a heart. George is cool, glad you like George. Satan sure did give one hell of a gift, I agree. And yes, commiserate with Uriel. Make him feel better. Just keep in mind that Uriel looks very much like the picture of the hot Armani guy I showed you.

Note: Grâce à Dieu means "Thank God" (or at least that's what my friend who was majoring in French told me, let me know if it's wrong MJ MOD.)

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Erik tapped his toe impatiently. Couldn't the elevator get there any faster? 

"Calm down," Lenore whispered.

"It's our wedding night," he reminded her.

"And we've had sex multiple times before, it's not like you've been waiting for years for this night."

"This is different."

"Stop being ridiculous," she instructed. "And stop tapping your foot!"

"Why should I?"

"Because you're scaring the bellhop," Lenore informed him.

The boy was clutching their luggage and trembling in a corner of the lift, eyeing Erik warily. _I sometimes forget how intimidating I can be…_ "Fine," Erik sighed, forcing his foot to be still.

"Thank you," Lenore said.

"Show your appreciation in bed, chérie," Erik purred into her ear.

"You're such a naughty boy," Lenore scolded. "I might have to spank you."

"Grâce à Dieu," the bellhop muttered when they reached the top floor.

"Dear God, how much did you spend?" Lenore hissed when the bellhop opened the door to the suite.

"Surely you don't find it objectionable?" Erik inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Erik, we are standing in an entrance hall! How many people need an entrance hall in their honeymoon suite?"

"It's the best suite of this hotel," Erik defended himself.

"There are two bedrooms! What's the sense in that? We only need one!"

"I can afford the best suites and service; why should I settle for less?" Erik asked.

Lenore scampered off to check the place out, showing her child-like enthusiasm over the suite. _Why did she make such a fuss if she's merely going to drop the subject?_ "Ooo, look, they even provide slippers!" she squealed excitedly.

"I'm glad you're pleased," Erik chuckled, giving the bellhop quite a generous tip to make up for frightening the boy so badly.

"Well, my feet get cold easily, you know that," Lenore replied.

Erik did indeed know that; she always put her cold feet on him in the middle of the night.

"Oh, bathrobes, check that out!" she called from the bathroom adjoining the bedroom she'd been poking around in moments ago.

Erik shook his head and headed for the bedroom as the bellhop closed the suite door. "I was under the impression that you were used to the finest things, ma petite," Erik said.

"Well, yeah, Hiroshi and I had nice suites and stuff, but never quite this nice," she explained. "The soap smells really nice, I think I'll have a bath."

Erik walked into the bathroom and saw her reaching for the tap. He grabbed her hand before it reached its destination. "You can bathe later," he told her.

"But"-

"Just come to bed," he whispered, already pulling her into the bedroom.

"But the soap"-

"It's not going anywhere," Erik assured her.

"It smells good. Don't you want me to smell good for sex?"

"You smell fine," Erik said, pushing her down onto the king-sized bed.

"Oh, only fine? Gee, thanks," Lenore muttered.

Erik silenced her with a kiss. He didn't want to waste time arguing.

"You sex-obsessed man," she giggled when he pulled away. "You can't even let me have a half hour to bathe."

"You don't need to," he informed her.

"But what if I want to?" she replied, trying to wiggle out from under him so she could go have that silly bath she wanted.

Erik quickly ran through his list of options and decided upon the best course of action. _Thank God I'm always prepared._ He reached into his cloak and pulled a length of rope out of a hidden pocket. Within moments, he had her hogtied.

"Erik!" she gasped. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Keeping you from that bath," Erik answered as he began undoing the laces of her gown around her bound limbs.

"You're going to have to untie me to get the dress off," Lenore pointed out smugly.

"I could always cut it off," Erik smirked, making sure she caught a quick glimpse of the dagger tucked into the top of his boot.

"Not my dress," she whimpered.

"That's purely a last resort, ma chouchoute. If you cooperate, I won't have to resort to such drastic measures."

"Why can't I take a bath when I want?" Lenore snapped. "Is it too much to ask that I get to decide when I bathe?"

"It's far too much to ask," Erik said dismissively, having finished with unlacing her gown.

"You're such a man sometimes," she grumbled.

"Would you prefer me to be a woman?" Erik inquired in amusement.

"Oh shut up, I didn't mean it like that," she replied as he pulled her stockings down to her ankles.

"Perhaps you should word things a bit more carefully," Erik advised, releasing her wrists so he could get her arms out of the sleeves of the dress. Once that was accomplished, he bound her wrists again; he wasn't taking any chances. Besides, he'd been wanting to tie her up for quite some time.

"Erik, if you don't untie me right now, I'm going to kill you when I get loose," she threatened.

"I suppose I'll never untie you then," Erik teased.

"You are in so much trouble, mister," Lenore replied. "Just you wait!"

"Precisely what is it that I'm waiting for?" he asked as he finished unbinding her ankles and began pulling the rest of her garments off her body, leaving them in a pile on the floor beside the bed.

"I don't want to spoil the surprise," Lenore snarled.

"We're married now, so no more secrets," Erik reprimanded her, crossing her ankles before refastening them with the rope. He did this in a manner that, when her ankles were properly linked to her wrists, would force her knees to bend and leave her legs spread wide.

"You dirty, nasty old man," she remarked when she realized the position she was in.

"You shouldn't throw rocks if you live in a glass house, Lenore," Erik smiled.

"I'm certainly not a dirty, nasty old man. So I can't really be throwing rocks, now can I?"

"You're a dirty, coquettish young woman," he replied.

"Touché," she muttered glumly. "Do you always have to win?"

"Do you really have to ask that question?" he responded, dropping his own clothes on the floor.

"Erik…you're going to untie me at some point, right?"

* * *

Lenore silently cursed every divinity ever created when he gave her a wicked smile before dropping down onto her. She then cursed them a second time for making her like that evil grin. 

Erik was a master at tying people up; being his wife did not grant her any mercy whatsoever. She was almost entirely unable to move, and the restraints were tight enough to keep her back arched. Erik had one hand between her legs, the other kneading the breast his mouth wasn't currently attached to. Her arms and legs struggled against the rope, wanting to entwine themselves around Erik, but the pain stopped her squirming after a few seconds.

Lenore was completely helpless…but she found it was…really…enjoyable. _I must be psychologically fucked up to like this._

Gasping for air as shivers of pleasure coursed through her body, Lenore began to wonder how many different ways Erik could tie her up. Was he only into using rope, or would he want to use leather straps and chains at some point? Was there anything in particular that she was certain she didn't want to do (like no whippings, or no gags, etc.)? _Will I ever get to play the dominant partner? Do I want to?_

Erik didn't waste much time on foreplay; it seemed he wanted her so badly that he could only wait as long as it took for her to become stimulated. He plunged into her the moment she was ready.

* * *

"Aren't you done in there in yet?" Erik called from the bed. Lenore had insisted she could bathe in the time it took him to be ready to make love again. 

"Um…ten…no, fifteen more minutes, okay?" she replied.

"No, it's not alright," he informed her.

"You can wait fifteen minutes. It won't kill you. You're immortal, after all."

"It may not kill me, but it can certainly cause me pain," Erik muttered, throwing back the blankets and standing up. _Why must she be so difficult? Well, perhaps she wouldn't be if she knew…but I don't want to say anything in case nothing happens. If she conceives, then I'll tell her. But if she knew and didn't, it would be too painful for both of us. She'll feel like it's her fault somehow, and I don't want her to suffer that guilt._

"What are you doing? I told you, fifteen minutes," Lenore said when he entered the bathroom. She was merely soaking in the tub, not even making the pretense of washing herself.

"You wish for fifteen more minutes for your own pleasure. How selfish," Erik remarked.

"Well…you could join me," she proposed. It was a rather large tub; it could have easily held four adult men.

"That's not my idea of fun, chérie," Erik sighed.

"Whoever said we couldn't have sex in the tub?" Lenore pointed out. Erik raised an eyebrow; it was inconceivable to him that people would copulate in the bathtub. Either Lenore was extremely kinky, or else society as a whole had created and accepted bizarre sexual practices in the last one hundred and fifty some years. "What are you giving me that look for?"

"Was I giving you a particular look?" Erik inquired.

"You were giving me that 'You are so strange, where you do get these ideas' look," Lenore told him. She paused for a moment. "I think it would do you a world of good to see the Rocky Horror Picture Show."

"It certainly doesn't sound entertaining," Erik commented.

"Well, it would definitely help you catch up on today's sexual practices. Actually, that movie's…what…about fifty years old now? But still. It would help to some extent."

"Are you implying that I'm old-fashioned?"

"Who, me?" she inquired with mock innocence.

"I prefer to think of it as conservative," Erik responded. "After all, some of the things you suggest are absolutely insane. What man in his right mind would"- Erik broke off there. He had to phrase this properly without being too obscene. "It is entirely inappropriate for a man to…" He made a gesture trying to indicate that he was looking for a particular word and unable to find it. However, Lenore was not on his current train of thought and just stared at him, waiting for him to finish that statement. Finally, he settled on a way to phrase it. "For a man to insert it into a woman's mouth is absolutely disgusting and disgraceful."

"Oh, you're talking about oral sex. Gee, you definitely don't make it sound like fun, that's for sure," Lenore said.

"I just told you it was disgusting," Erik sighed. The fact that she even mentioned the issue and related it to the word fun was disturbing.

"Look, I've still got about 10 more minutes, so if you're not going to join me, you might as well go wait in bed," Lenore advised.

_Go on, Erik. Join her. Make love to her in the bathtub. Apparently she's not against the idea. And you might find you enjoy it; you won't know until you've tried it once. But…that's not the purpose of a tub. Why do you think everything is only to be used for its purposes? By trying something you new, you may find a whole new purpose for some things._

Erik found himself in the tub with her moments later. The water was lukewarm at best, as she'd been in there for over half an hour already. He found that it was incredibly enticing to have her naked and wet. It was probably a very wicked thing. Then again, he was eternally condemned, so what did it matter if he thought wicked things?

He wasted no time in foreplay. Linking with her mind, he threw her into orgasm. She gasped and gave a start, which was only natural due to the abrupt swell of the feelings associated with that climax. Keeping her locked in an endless cycle of orgasm, Erik positioned himself on top of her.

His hands slid into her wet locks as he gave her a passionate kiss before plunging into her.

* * *

_Dear God, I'm such a lucky bitch. How many men can please their wives with a simple thought, not even having to touch her? How many women have husbands who don't want oral sex, and therefore don't care that she finds it disgusting?_

"Erik," she moaned. "Harder."

He eagerly complied, driving himself in further with such force that she was sure she was going to bruise.

When Erik had finished with her once again, he got her out of the tub, dried her off, and carried her to bed. Just as he was laying her down on the mattress, she felt a strange sensation, a sort of twinge in her lower abdomen. _What the hell was that?_ When the feeling didn't persist, she decided to brush it aside as just a strange occurrence that merited little concern, if any at all.

As she lay in bed, snugged up against Erik and wondering if he intended to take her as many times as possible in one night, she felt something else. A feeling inside of her that was odd. _Maybe I should say something after all. First that twinge and now this…_

"Erik…I feel weird," she stated.

"What do you mean?" he inquired worriedly. "What's wrong? Are you experiencing any pain or"-

"No, no, there's nothing wrong. It's just…I don't know how to describe it. Like, there was this twinge a little bit ago, and now this really weird feeling," Lenore said.

Suddenly, the phone rang. Lenore and Erik just stared at it for a moment; no one had the number for their suite, and no one would call on their wedding night anyway. After a few persistent rings, Lenore picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said tentatively.

"Hi darling," Satan's voice answered over the line.

"What is wrong with you?" Lenore hissed. "Who calls a married couple on their wedding night?"

"I do, at this moment in time," Satan replied.

"I'm surprised you get phone service in Hell," Lenore retorted.

"Who is it?" Erik hissed.

"Oh, Satan just thought he'd give us a ring," Lenore answered her husband.

"I called to explain that weird feeling you're experiencing," Satan informed her.

"What? How do you know about that? Are you doing something to me? Wait, this isn't some horrible, rare, fatal diseases, is it? Am I going to die soon or something?"

"It's not a rare fatal disease. Though most women think they'll die from it at some point," Lucifer chuckled.

"Don't keep me in suspense!!! What the bloody hell is happening to me?"

"It's not good to get yourself so worked up in your condition. You're pregnant, darling. That little twinge was the conception, and this feeling you've got now is that instinctual mother thing," the devil explained.

"I'm…but…not possible," Lenore finally spat out.

"It's my wedding gift to the two of you. That was the reason I touched you that way tonight. To make sure you were ovulating and that your body would alert you the moment you conceived."

"Okay, I think you've been drinking or something. It's not possible. End of story. And I'm not talking to you anymore," she informed him before handing the phone to Erik. "Here, he's your family, you deal with him."

Erik warily took the phone (he had a severe dislike for phones, and he was still debating over whether or not he liked television) and listened to Mephistopheles' absurd tale. "Well, thank you," Erik finally said. "I assume you won't bother us for the rest of the honeymoon? Good." He handed her the receiver so she could hang it up.

"That's one of the most ridiculous lies I've ever heard," Lenore commented as she snuggled into Erik's embrace.

Erik kissed the top of her head gently. "We'll have to start thinking about names," he said.

"Oh, you don't seriously believe him, do you?" Lenore scoffed. "I mean, you told me yourself that you can't have children, because immortality makes you infertile."

"Perhaps I forgot to mention that Satan made me fertile for the next twenty four hours," Erik mumbled.

"How do you forget something as important as that?" Lenore snarled, pulling away from him and sitting up in the bed, glaring at him.

"I don't see what you're so upset about," Erik replied nonchalantly. "I didn't want you to worry and blame yourself if you didn't conceive, that's all."

"I'm upset because you told me a long time ago that I didn't have to worry about getting pregnant!"

"Yes, but now that we're married"-

"It makes no difference. Did you even stop to think? You have no idea how I feel about having children! I don't want them, Erik! I hate children," Lenore informed him. "I cannot stand children at all. Now, maybe that would've changed in a couple of years, I don't know. But I do know that I definitely don't want children at this point in my life."

* * *

It was a painful blow. He hadn't been expecting that at all. Every woman wanted children. How could she not? Didn't she want to raise a family with him? Was it possible she was already having a mood swing from her condition? No, it was too early for that sort of thing. 

"What does this point in your life have to do with whether or not you want children?" he inquired. That was the strangest thing she'd said. What did it matter at what point you had children?

"I'm way too young for children," she replied condescendingly.

"But many women are married and becoming mothers at your age," Erik argued.

"In your time, yeah. Not anymore. Now we're usually twenty three before we get married, and don't have kids until after twenty five," Lenore said.

"…I'm sorry," Erik apologized softly.

"Why didn't you ask me?" Lenore whispered. "Why didn't you tell me tonight? I mean, it seems a bit too convenient to me that you forgot to say something before we had sex."

"I just assumed you'd want children," Erik explained.

"Well, next time, ask," Lenore sighed. "Don't just make assumptions about what I do or don't want, especially if we've never even talked about it."

"You want to live in a normal house, aboveground, correct?" Erik asked, worried that maybe she didn't. Though that would be truly insane.

"That, yes. That's fine," Lenore replied.

"Good. Because construction started the day after New Year's."

"What? You mean to tell me our house has been in construction for a month and I didn't hear about it until now? When were you planning on telling me?" Lenore demanded.

"When we returned from the honeymoon," Erik admitted. "It was to be a surprise, but…well, I thought I'd better ask now, seeing as how you don't want me making assumptions."

"…I'm being a bit of a bitch, aren't I?" Lenore asked.

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it quite that way," Erik murmured. He would've taken out the 'a bit of' part.

"I'm sorry, but…I'm not happy. Maybe you gathered that."

"I'm sorry," he apologized again. Mark and Jon had told Erik that women loved to hear a man say he was sorry, even if he'd done nothing to cause the current problem. Wives especially loved to hear it from their husbands, according to Lenore's brothers.

"Well, sorry doesn't magically reverse a pregnancy," Lenore mumbled.

Erik was momentarily puzzled. The usual responses to an apology were either forgiveness, or admitting that the other person was not at fault. What she'd just said seemed a response to his thoughts. _Mark and Jon said that wives_-

"They don't know anything," Lenore grumbled. "They're men; that in and of itself proves they know very little." Erik stared at her, purposefully keeping his mind blank. "What are you staring at me for?"

_Because you're reading my thoughts._

"That's ridiculous, I'm not…I am…oh my God!!! Why? How? When?" she shrieked.

"Why? Because I have touched your mind far too often. How? Because linking with a person's mind repetitively over a long period of time slowly deteriorates the barrier, if you will. Your mind slowly comes to expect my presence, and my mind comes to expect to be connected to yours. The barriers are slowly eradicated and a link is formed. Sort of like building a bridge over a chasm. When? Apparently within the last few minutes."

"Oh, this is way too weird," she exclaimed. "Wow…umm…you're a bit over-powering, you know that? I mean…I'm being assaulted with far too many images and feelings. It…just…"

Erik quickly blocked her from his memories. Apparently she had stumbled over them.

"Ow," she yelped, putting a hand to her head. "What was that?"

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," Erik informed her. Anyone with experience in reading minds would have seen the barriers and been able to withdraw before being forcibly cut off from that portion of their target's mind. But she was an amateur; he'd have to teach her how to control it, even though his was the only mind she could read.

Erik sighed. There was too much she didn't know, too much he didn't want to tell her. If he taught her how to use this new ability, she'd be able to see parts of him he didn't want her to. Because she'd find a way to get into his memories, even if it took her years to slowly slip through the barriers undetected. She'd do anything to learn what she wanted to know.

"You shut me out, didn't you?" Lenore accused.

"I did," Erik shrugged carelessly.

"That was cruel. We're married, you're not supposed to hide things from me," she complained.

"You should look at it from my perspective. The situation can be likened to a small, energetic child left unsupervised in an antique shop," Erik said. "It is all too likely you might meddle with something and break it beyond repair. With time and training, you will learn what is to be left alone and why."

"Oh, you're just saying that because you don't like that I can get inside your mind," Lenore snapped, insulted at being likened to a child.

"You could accidentally cut the threads of my sanity. Or you might end up disabling my memory. Or perhaps switch off my mind entirely, which would leave me quite literally brain dead, ma petite. Do you want to be married to –what's the term you use for that? Vegetable? –for the rest of your life?"

"You suck," she muttered darkly, sulking because of the excellent points he'd made.

"I'm afraid I find myself helpless to resist the temptation; your breasts are rather delectable."

"You're so naughty. What am I going to do with you?"

"I have a few ideas," Erik informed her with a suggestive smirk.

* * *

"This cat is a monster," Hiroshi complained. Said cat was currently attached to his leg, attempting to rip him to shreds. "Are you sure it isn't related to a demon?" 

"Pretty sure," Raghnall said dismissively, taking notes on Christi, who was currently watching Bishop rip Hiroshi's flesh to bits. After a few moments of observing, she followed the cat's example.

"Get off, you stupid mortal!" Hiroshi snarled. "Raghnall, your pet is maiming me!"

"She's expressing affection," Raghnall lied.

"Rather negative affection if you ask me," Hiroshi mumbled.

"I've got good news," Satan proclaimed, appearing in Raghnall's laboratory.

"You're going to get rid of Bishop and Christi?" Hiroshi guessed hopefully.

It just so happened that Satan's appearance did rid Hiroshi of those two pests gnawing on his legs. Having been mentally modified by an archangel, Bishop's dislike of immortals was surpassed only by his hatred of Satan, so he quickly switched victims. And Christi just followed the cat.

"Lenore is pregnant," Satan said, glaring down at the monsters attached to his legs.

"Oh, kitten's going to know the horror of children. That's absolutely wonderful," Hiroshi sighed happily. Then he realized something. "I'm going to be a grandfather…that makes me feel old."

"You are old," Raghnall pointed out.

"Nonsense, I'm only nine hundred and sixteen," Hiroshi argued.

"Yes, that's true. Compared to me, you're still a child," Raghnall said.

"Oh? How old are you?" Hiroshi inquired.

"I'm…hm, I can't remember. How old am I, Master?" Raghnall asked Satan.

"Oh, at least ten thousand years, if not more," Satan said dismissively. "Raghnall, get this fur ball off of me, and remove your pet while you're at it," Satan commanded.

"She's expressing affection," Raghnall repeated the lie he'd given Hiroshi.

Two hours later, Satan walked out the door. Bishop was hiding behind Hiroshi, Christi was perched on one of the bookshelves chuckling maliciously, and Raghnall was lying on the floor in a bloody heap, due to the amount of affection Satan had expressed for his right hand man.

"You were lucky," Hiroshi commented, looking at the bruised mess of an immortal called Raghnall.

"Yes, well, he was in a particularly good mood it would seem," Raghnall responded.

* * *

"So Jadesy is the name I should attach to those gorgeous orbs that stare at me in an obsessed, lustful manner," Hiroshi remarked.

"Stop looking at my computer screen!" Tammy commanded, poking Hiroshi with the shocky spork.

"Hey, hey, Raghnall's all bruised and stuff," Christi observed, perched atop the shelves over Tammy's desk.

"Don't even think of jumping on me," Tammy snarled, glaring at the seemingly immortal woman above her.

"I'm pregnant," Lenore sniffled unhappily.

"It's not my fault," Erik replied instantaneously. "It's Tammy's fault, she wrote it."

"Yeah, I'm just so terribly cruel," Tammy retorted dryly. "I've already determined the gender and name of the baby. Got a good portion of the next chapter written up already. Actually might have the chapter finished…hmm, I'll have to see if it's enough for a full chapter…Anyway, review so that I'm inspired to put the next part out sooner."

"And if you can't remember by now that she accepts anonymous reviews, then you're dumber than me," Christi proclaimed. "Cuz she says she accepts anonymous reviews every damn time, you'd think it'd sink by now."

"I wish the shocky spork worked on you," Tammy muttered darkly.


	42. Chapter 42

Lady Taevyn: Hm, maybe Christi should show up in the middle of the delivery, thanks for suggesting it.

Lethia: I'm glad you enjoyed the mention of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, lol.

Shariena: You'll see part of the reason Lenore doesn't want children in this chapter, so read on.

BrackCatOden: Yay! You're back!! I'm glad you still love the story. I think I've lost a few readers. Le sigh. I haven't heard from Mominator or LoveMe1010 in forever…but maybe they've just been too busy to review or some such. You say Erik should be horse whipped for not letting Lenore have a choice about having a baby. You wanna horse whip Erik, be my guest. But I'm personally not risking my life for that. Also, it'll be a long time before Lenore really finds anything out about Erik's past. He's an expert at this mental stuff and she's just a beginner. It'll take a few years at least until she's anywhere near mastering this stuff.

MJ MOD: The only reader to worry that Satan may have somehow cursed the child. Well, don't worry, I assure you Satan didn't curse the child. The child is just fine. Lenore will live with being a parent even if she doesn't really want to be a mom at this point in her life. And of course Christi (and the friend she is based upon) isn't human, she's the embodiment of Hell. She's Hell taking on a humanoid form to trick us mortals!

Artzee: Yay for musicals done which lets you sleep (and review).

Adusiriel: You didn't have to be registered to review. All you needed was a name (which you clearly have one, unless your parents decided not to give you a name which is just weird) and an email address. But it's cool that you registered on the site. I'm glad you're always looking for updates. Next time you review, if you put a little check in the box next to the line that says "Add story to my Story Alert List", you'll get an email every time I put up another chapter. That way you don't have to keep checking my page, lol. Not that I mind you checking my page or anything. Just thought I'd try to make a helpful suggestion or something…

Black Hole Phoenix: Yeah, negative review much! lol. Anyways...no one else seems to think there's anything wrong/off with the sex scenes. And as for the grammar thing...that was just me accidentally missing the word (letter, whatever) 'a' before the dash (hyphen)...so it was just me making a stupid mistake and not paying enough attention to my typing. It happens to the best (and the worst) of us.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"Let me sleep," Lenore whined when Erik shook her awake at around six a.m. 

"We have a train to catch," Erik reminded her.

"Well maybe you should have thought of that when you kept waking me up for sex last night," Lenore mumbled, snuggling into the mattress.

"Just get up and start getting dressed," Erik demanded.

"No, I need rest. For the baby," Lenore said, hoping that would be a good enough excuse.

"You need to get up and have breakfast for the baby," Erik contradicted.

"The kid's gonna be fine if I wait another four or five hours to eat," she responded.

"Then it won't matter if you have to wait another fifteen hours to sleep," he reasoned.

"No," she whined again, clutching the blankets closer and burying her face in the pillow.

Moments later, the blankets were ripped from her grasp, exposing her to the cool air of the hotel suite. Erik's arms wrapped around her waist and dragged her out of the bed.

"You're positively cruel," she accused him when he set her on her feet and handed her some clothes.

"There is nothing cruel about it, chérie. I merely wish to make sure you don't make us late for our train, which will consequently have us miss the boat, which would put a slight damper on the honeymoon."

"Consequently is too big a word to use this early," she muttered. Lenore got dressed while Erik called room service, and moments later their breakfast arrived. "Erik…we can't possibly eat even half of what you told them to send up."

"You're eating for two now," Erik said in a tone that indicated that she should have seen the simple logic of ordering so much food because she was pregnant.

"Look, this brat isn't that big yet. All I need in the way of food is a very miniscule increase, if that," Lenore informed him.

"You shouldn't talk that way," Erik said with a scowl. "It's our child, not a brat."

"So should I replace the word 'brat' with 'angel'?" Lenore asked snarkily.

"May I see your wedding ring for a moment?" Erik inquired as Lenore started picking out what she was going to eat from the vast cart of food.

"Don't tell me you believe that whole wedding ring dangling from a piece of string can predict the gender thing. It's a ridiculous superstition," Lenore scoffed.

"Would you just humor me?" Erik sighed.

"I know that the gender's already been decided, but can't we wait for the ultrasound instead of trusting silly old wives' tales?"

"Who decided the gender?" Erik asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"The sex chromosomes of that one sperm that got lucky," Lenore muttered darkly.

"Just let me have your ring," Erik insisted.

"You're all about logic, Erik. Superstition has nothing to do with logic," Lenore pointed out.

"Please."

"Why is this so important to you?"

Erik looked at the floor for a moment, obviously not sure how he wanted to answer that question. "Mademoiselle Perrault once let slip to me that my mother told her that my father used this method to predict that I would be a boy," he finally admitted.

"So it's a family thing," Lenore said after a moment. "Alright, but no matter what it says, we're picking out names for both sexes. Just until we know for sure by the ultrasound."

Erik took her ring the moment she had it off of her finger, and yanked a strand of hair from her head. _He failed to mention that part…_ In moments, he had her ring dangling from the strand.

"You know, it might not work. Most people do this at three months or later," Lenore told him. "So don't be disappointed if it doesn't work."

Erik nodded his head absently, as if he didn't believe for one minute that it wouldn't work. He held the ring so that it was just above her belly button, and it slowly began to move in a circle. "A girl," he said with a smile. There was a note of relief in his voice that confused Lenore.

"Were you afraid a boy would steal my affections from you?" Lenore guessed.

"Not at all," Erik replied honestly, handing her ring back to her. "I don't mean to say it won't happen with a girl, but I just worry that a boy would have a greater chance of…" Erik paused there for a moment, quite clearly not wanting to say whatever he was thinking. He made a quick gesture to his face.

"Well, it wasn't a hereditary thing, so…you shouldn't worry about it," Lenore responded, giving him a hug. She knew he hadn't considered the possibility of passing on his deformity, as he'd always thought he'd never have children. And when he'd gotten the chance, he was so excited that he had the opportunity that he didn't think of any problems that might arise. "And there's all sorts of technology stuff today, so we'll know if…anything happens."

"Have your breakfast; the food's getting cold," Erik murmured after a few moments of silence.

Lenore began eating, thinking this over. She knew Erik was seriously worried about the baby, but she didn't know how to assure him it would be fine. "Maybe you should go to Hell, and ask Satan," Lenore suggested in between mouthfuls of croissant. "Somebody down there ought to know. I mean, they knew I was gonna die…"

"They wouldn't tell me, just to torment me," Erik grumbled.

"Beat it out of them."

Erik chuckled. "You never fail to entertain."

* * *

"I like trains, did I ever tell you that?" Lenore said excitedly as she all but bounced up and down in her seat. 

"You drank the coffee, didn't you?" Erik replied. He'd suspected that. He had left her alone with the food for a few minutes, making sure all of their belongings were packed and ready to go. When he'd asked for his coffee, she told him there wasn't any on the cart. Which wouldn't be a lie if she drank it.

"Trains are fun. I rode on a train once before, when I was really little. And Krista, my friend, was looking really sick. My mom was chaperoning our group and told Krista that she could puke in the hood of my jacket if she had to," Lenore rambled.

"You're never having coffee again," Erik declared.

"Is it strange that I always wanted a train set when I was a child? I always loved the toys Mark and John had. I mean, I loved dolls well enough. But I wanted the Legos and domino sets, train sets, G.I. Joes…boys always have the fun toys. You know, the building things and the engine things and the violent, fighting things…All we girls get is dolls, and we're expected to dress Barbie up and have her keep house for Ken," Lenore continued. "Or go out to parties with Ken."

"Caffeine isn't good for you. And it's especially not good for the baby," Erik informed her. "No more caffeine, ma petite."

"But I love caffeine, it makes me happy," she bubbled.

"It's bad for the baby," Erik said through gritted teeth. Lenore was going to insist on having her caffeine, and Erik would have to put his foot down (rather forcefully).

"Caffeine is my friend," Lenore argued. "I'm not going to desert it, so there." She promptly stuck her tongue out at him before turning her attention to the scenery outside the window.

"If you drink any more caffeine before the child's born, I'll let Raghnall study you," Erik threatened.

"Llamas!!" Lenore squealed excitedly, pressing her face to the glass for a slightly better look. "My aunt's cousin used to have llamas!"

"Whatever was I thinking when I wanted a child? My wife is practically a child herself," Erik muttered to himself. "Now I'll have to be responsible for two."

"Your fault," she said in a singsong voice, turning back from the window as the llamas had disappeared from view.

"Well, we all make mistakes," Erik replied.

"You don't have any place to complain! You're not the one who's gonna get fat, and spend hours puking, and have swollen ankles, and backaches, and mood swings, and have the kid kicking you, and giving birth," Lenore snapped.

"I'm sorry," he immediately responded. He had a feeling he might spend the next nine months repeating that phrase every few seconds. Especially considering how often Lenore disagreed and argued with him.

"Sorry enough to let me have caffeine?"

Good God, the woman was not only as energetic as a five-year old, but she seemed to have retained her cunning and manipulative nature! "Not that sorry, I'm afraid," Erik answered honestly.

"Boo, no fun," she griped.

"Do you think the caffeine rush will wear off before we get to Strasbourg, chérie?"

"I dunno, why?"

"Because I'd rather not have you jumping up and down like a child when we get on the boat," Erik shrugged casually.

"Hey, I went on a boat in fifth grade. A skiff, I think it was," Lenore babbled.

"You seem to have done quite a great deal of things in your life," Erik commented.

"Well, when you live twice…"

* * *

"Why can't I have wine?" Lenore snarled during dinner that night on the bank of the Rhine. 

"You shouldn't drink now that you're pregnant," Erik stated.

"One glass of wine isn't going to be a problem," Lenore argued. "Come on! The Rhine valley has some of the best wine in the world! It'd be cruel not to let me have some!"

"Well, I didn't think it would be something to worry about when I planned this trip. I do apologize for that much," he granted.

"Is there anything I can do while pregnant?" Lenore snapped.

"Drink mostly water, take vitamins, exercise, gain the proper amount of weight, have a healthy diet, avoid stress, get plenty of rest, and try to keep your mood under control," Erik listed off.

"Well, pregnancy certainly sounds like zero fun and a hundred percent pain and suffering," Lenore mumbled.

"Perhaps we should look into the medical history of your biological parents from this life," Erik mused. "We need to know what the baby has a chance of inheriting."

"They're both dead," Lenore pointed out. "So who do you wanna ask?"

"I'm sure Hiroshi can find out for us."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"

"Naturally. You gain quite a great deal of wisdom when you live for one hundred and seventy eight years, which limits the amount of questions you can't answer to a very small number," Erik smirked.

"Hm. You know, I have no idea when your birthday is, Erik," Lenore observed.

"August sixteenth," he replied.

"Why didn't you ever tell me before?" she asked curiously.

"It's not important," he shrugged.

"Of course it is! You're supposed to get gifts and have a party and all," Lenore said.

"I don't like birthdays," Erik confessed softly. "Not my own, at least."

"You should be happy you were born. It's supposed to be celebrated," Lenore insisted.

"My mother…she only ever tried to, once. It…didn't go well," he informed her.

"It couldn't have been that bad," Lenore reasoned.

"You know nothing," he hissed, glaring at his plate.

"And I won't ever know anything if you don't tell me," she snapped back. Honestly! She was his wife. Why couldn't he just share things with her, like all other couples did?

"I was five," Erik began. "She told me I could have anything I wanted…but she lied. I got angry when she wouldn't give me what I wanted, so I came to dinner without the mask. Moments later, she took me upstairs and…I saw in the mirror…what I looked like beneath the mask."

Lenore bit her lip; she shouldn't have asked. _Why couldn't I just drop it? Why couldn't I just leave it at the fact that he didn't like his own birthday? No, I had to open my big mouth and pressure him into telling me._

"I've never tried celebrating it since. I never told anyone when it was, not even Daroga."

"Well…maybe you should try celebrating it again. I mean, you shouldn't let one bad experience turn you off to birthdays," Lenore advised. "I'll show you how we celebrated birthdays in my family next August."

Later that evening in the hotel, Erik pulled out his drawing tools. The thick parchment, charcoal pencils, erasers, protractor, and a compass were spread out across the table as he prepared to settle down to work.

"What are you drawing?" Lenore asked curiously, worried that she was going to end up spending the evening reading a book while Erik sketched furiously, completely forgetting she was there.

"I'm redoing the upstairs hallway," Erik explained. "We'll need a nursery."

"Aww, are we gonna have pink bunnies on the wall?" Lenore said, trying to tease him lightly about his prediction of the baby's gender.

"Why would there be bunnies?" Erik inquired, giving her a puzzled look.

"Well…bunnies are cute. And nurseries are always decorated with cute animals," Lenore replied.

"Not in my time," Erik informed Lenore as he turned back to his parchment. "We should start thinking about her education…" he trailed off absently as he settled down to work.

Lenore shook her head; the baby had been conceived less than twenty four hours ago, and Erik was already worried about education. Realizing she hadn't brought any books along, Lenore ended up getting out the list for her thank you cards and worked her way through that chore. When she finished, around ten o'clock, she sighed heavily. "Erik, stop with the architecture. It makes for a very boring honeymoon," she said.

Erik put down his pencil reluctantly, then put his things away. "Perhaps we should discuss names," he suggested. "I like Melodie."

"Erik, this is our honeymoon. Do we have to do this now?"

"I don't want to keep saying 'she' all the time," Erik complained. "And we'll have to do it at some point, so why not now?"

"What if it turns out to be a boy? Then we'll have to do this all over again," Lenore pointed out.

"It will be a girl," Erik said firmly.

"You can't trust that ring on a string test!" Lenore contradicted.

"When you find out it's a girl, I'll expect an apology for doubting me," Erik replied.

"You're impossible to live with! See, this is exactly why I didn't want children. It's just going to be an endless cycle of arguing!"

"If you weren't so stubborn, we wouldn't argue half as much."

"Saying I'm stubborn is like the pot calling the kettle black," Lenore retorted. Then, something occurred to her. "We have to raise the kid to be Catholic."

"No we don't," Erik dismissed her comment.

"We said we would when we got married," she reminded him.

"Well, you're not Catholic, so I don't think you have to worry about disregarding that. And I'm eternally condemned, so it doesn't matter if I don't raise the child to be Catholic. If she wishes to attend regular sermons or Mass, fine and well. If not, I won't force her."

"If I end up burning in Hell for not raising the brat –sorry, the angel—Catholic, I'll find a way to kill you for it," Lenore warned him.

"Fine. Now, what names do you like?"

Lenore sighed and shook her head. She knew there was no getting out of it, so she'd have to suggest a few. "Shayl," she said.

"Shayl Melodie," Erik pondered, testing the names.

"Don't you like any other names? Maybe you should think about women who've been important in your life. Your mother or…maybe Christine," Lenore hesitantly said.

Erik snorted derisively. "Do you think I would name my child after women who were frightened of me and left me alone and unloved? The only truly important woman in my life is you. And we can't have the two of you sharing a name. It would get confusing." There was a brief pause. "Belle is always a nice choice. And Eleanor isn't objectionable."

"Shayl Belle. That sounds nice," Lenore commented.

"Do you have any other names you might wish to consider?" Erik inquired.

"Samantha. Penny. Dawn. Andra," Lenore listed off.

"Eleanor Dawn has a nice ring to it. Andra Michelle is another possibility," Erik mused.

"Alright, we've thought about it some. Let's put this on the shelf for now," Lenore said.

"I already told you I don't wish to keep referring to the baby as 'she' and 'her'. I would prefer to pick a name now," Erik responded.

"And what if it turns out to be a boy and you spend months calling it by a girl's name? Think of the mental scarring that poor kid will suffer."

"What do you think of Sonata Anne?"

"No. The initials would spell out 'sad'," she told him.

"Sonata Marie?"

"That's better."

"So, Shayl Belle, Eleanor Dawn, Andra Michelle, or Sonata Marie?" Erik pondered.

"Do we have to decide now? What if we change our minds?"

"We won't," he stated confidently.

"Well, I'd say let's throw out Shayl Belle and Andra Michelle," Lenore sighed, knowing she wouldn't be going to bed until they picked a name.

"Eleanor Dawn or Sonata Marie."

"They both sound really beautiful. Which one do you like best?"

"We have to agree on this, chérie."

"Why? We didn't agree on having the kid in the first place," she muttered.

"Am I never going to hear the end of that?"

"Pretty much."

"We're getting off track," Erik said. "Our daughter needs a name."

"Just tell me which one you're going to decide on, I'll say I like that one, and we'll be done with this. You always make all the decisions in the end, so just make up your mind and let me know what it is so I can go to bed," Lenore sighed.

"This is our child," Erik reminded her. "You should have some say in her name at least. I don't wish to pick a name only to find out you don't like it."

"It doesn't matter to me," she growled. "I don't want the kid at all. So I really don't care."

"Perhaps it's time you started caring, Madam," Erik snarled. "What you wanted makes no difference. This is how the situation is! Accept it, and start caring. I will not tolerate this attitude. My daughter will not suffer the pain of rejection from her mother as I did! And if you can't find it in your heart to love her and show affection for her, I'll kill you. I won't see another Madeleine Dessler, hating and hurting her child, dying inside from the burden of raising that child."

His threat was frightening. But it wasn't half as bad as the words about rejection and hurting the child. Those words stung deeply, to think that he might compare her to his mother, whom he clearly hated. They sat in silence, Erik glaring at her furiously while she stared at the floor in shame.

"Sonata Dawn," Lenore finally said. "That way, we both have a name we like."

Erik said nothing, merely nodded in agreement.

* * *

He didn't consider what he'd said to her harsh at all. No child should ever have to suffer a mother's hatred. Erik had meant it when he said he would kill her; it would have been painful for him, no doubt, but it would be in his daughter's best interest. And Hiroshi was living proof that a daughter could be raised by her father without becoming a tomboy. 

Lenore was currently curled up in the bed, trying her absolute best not to let him hear her sniffling. Obviously he'd hurt her with his words. But he didn't want to apologize for what he said. It was all truth and he meant every word.

_Well, isn't this wonderful? Married less than two days, and your wife is crying herself to sleep. Splendid job, Erik. She was right. She's not ready for a child. But there wasn't much choice. I wasn't given the opportunity to say when I wanted to receive Satan's wedding gift. And it was a one-time thing…it was the only chance._

Erik lay down next to her, placing a kiss on her shoulder. "Don't cry, everything will be fine," he assured her. He really didn't know what else to say.

"But you yelled at me. And you threatened to kill me," she sniffled.

"I know, but you don't have to cry over it. I love you," he reminded her.

"How can you even think of murdering the woman you love?" she all but wailed.

"If you were going to be anything like my mother, I'd be doing you a favor," Erik tried to console her.

"I should have married Ben and Jerry," Lenore sobbed as she pulled away from him and got out of bed. She went over to the miniature fridge in their suite and retrieved a carton of ice cream.

Deciding to ignore that comment about marrying two men, Erik addressed her choice of food. "That's not healthy for the baby."

"I don't care! I'm depressed! Life is sometimes sad, and Ben and Jerry's makes it all better," Lenore proclaimed through her tears.

Erik ran a hand through his hair; it seemed he was terrible at comforting his own wife. Well, she'd feel better if he lied and said he didn't mean it, that he really wouldn't kill her. But, he didn't really want to lie to her. Getting up, Erik got a spoon and sat down with her at the table. "Let me have some of that. I'm depressed, because I've upset you so badly," he explained.

It was good ice cream. A bit odd, with the coffee fudge swirl, but the coffee wasn't overpowering. It was quiet for several long minutes while they both consumed a vast portion of the pint she'd gotten out.

"What if I turn out to be like my mom?" Lenore said worriedly.

"You won't," Erik assured her. "And if you start acting that way, I'll be sure to inform you immediately."

"What if I'm a bad mommy?" she continued.

It would seem that her doubts were a large part of the reason she didn't want children. "Just do the best you can," Erik advised.

* * *

They'd been in a hotel in Vaduz, Liechtenstein for almost two and a half weeks. It was hard to believe that they'd been married for three weeks already. Lenore was currently wondering why pregnancy had to be such a pain, and the only answer she came up with was Satan. This was his fault for tempting Eve in the first place. Her breasts were swollen and very tender, and she was so hungry all the time. She was contemplating taking a pillow and blanket and setting herself up in the bathroom, as she seemed to be running to it every five minutes to vomit from morning sickness or else relieve her bladder. 

"Can you get me fried chicken?" Lenore asked Erik. "I really want fried chicken, a whole bucket of it. I'm soooo hungry."

"Fried foods are too greasy, it's not healthy," Erik informed her. He was taking her condition very seriously. She walked a mile each day, and then spent the rest of her day either resting in bed or eating (also in bed). She took several vitamins. The only three beverages he allowed were water, juice, and milk. And the milk had to pass his standards or else she couldn't have that. He always checked to make sure the milk wasn't anywhere close to being spoiled.

"But…but…I want fried chicken," she said, bursting into tears. She wasn't quite sure why it upset her so much, but she couldn't stop herself from crying either.

"Couldn't you settle for something less greasy?" Erik pleaded.

"No," she sobbed, grabbing a tissue from the bedside table to blow her nose.

"Alright, you can have the chicken," Erik sighed.

"Thank you," she sniffled, her tears now those of joy at being allowed the chicken.

"After you eat, I'd like you take a long bubble bath," Erik told her after calling the front desk and putting in that request for the chicken. "It'll make you feel better."

"Okay," she agreed, finally done weeping.

"I'll see if I can't find a doctor or midwife to give you a check up," he added.

"Do you think the chicken will be here soon?" she said in response.

"Well, first it has to be killed, plucked, cut, and cooked. So it could be a while," Erik teased her.

"Oh, very funny. Pick on the pregnant lady who's going to die of starvation," Lenore griped.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" he inquired, having the decency to look ashamed at having upset her.

"Well, you can't carry and have the child for me," Lenore muttered. She thought about his question for a moment. "I wanna cuddle something furry. That would help a lot." She knew the Parkhotel Sonnenhof allowed people to have small pets, and someone was bound to have a cat or dog that she could cuddle for a bit.

"I would find it awkward to approach someone and ask to borrow their pet for my pregnant wife to cuddle," Erik informed her.

* * *

"Should it really be this awful?" Erik wondered aloud. He was referring to the morning sickness (though why it was called morning sickness when it could strike at any moment of the day was beyond him). He was currently kneeling next to Lenore, holding her hair back away from her face as she emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet. 

To Erik, it seemed she threw up far too often. Two meals out of three refused to stay in her stomach. And he had her eating six small meals a day. At least she could keep water down, so she wasn't becoming dehydrated.

With a moan, Lenore pulled her head back from the toilet, looking absolutely miserable. She slumped up against Erik, too exhausted to want to hold up her own weight. That also worried him; she hardly ever seemed to want to move. It was a battle to get her out of bed for her mile walk each day, and she took naps in between meals.

Thankfully, Erik had managed to schedule an appointment with a local gynecologist three days from now. His greatest concern was that something was wrong with one of his females. Perhaps Lenore had inherited some strange pregnancy sickness from her mother, or maybe Sonata had a prenatal disease that somehow affected Lenore. And what if all this vomiting meant Sonata wasn't getting the nutrients she needed? He didn't know what he'd do if this turned out fatal for either of them.

So three days later, Erik dragged Lenore out of bed and to the gynecologist's office. He'd taken great pains to make sure it was a woman, as he would not have another man examining Lenore. As they sat in the waiting room, Lenore leaned her head against his shoulder and drifted off to sleep. Other expectant mothers who were further along smiled knowingly. One woman, not much further along than Lenore by the looks of her, glared at her husband, who was standing up, which left his wife unable to lean her head against his shoulder as Lenore had done with Erik.

"Frau Dessler," a nurse called after a good half hour of waiting.

"Five more minutes," Lenore mumbled sleepily.

Erik shook his head with a chuckle before scooping her up into his arms and following the nurse to a small examination room where the gynecologist was waiting.

"Guten Tag, Herr Dessler," the woman greeted him in her native German.

"Guten Tag, Doctor Musgrave," he replied. "I believe, once she's awake, my wife would prefer to speak English. She's not exactly fluent in German." Not that he was fluent in German either. He knew enough to greet someone and say good-bye, but that was about it.

"Two more minutes," Lenore murmured groggily.

"Now, chérie," Erik argued as he set her down on the examination table as per the doctor's gesture. He'd learned a useful little trick over the last few days. He snapped his fingers right by her ear and she jolted awake.

* * *

"I'm up," she said quickly, looking around with alert eyes. "Jerk." 

"Good day, Frau Dessler," Dr. Musgrave greeted her with a smile. "So glad you could join us." The woman was clearly quite fluent in English and had only the slightest touch of an accent.

"Oh, pleasure's all mine," Lenore grumbled, glaring at Erik for waking her up.

"From what I understand, you're already pregnant. Did you have any appointments with a gynecologist before this?" Dr. Musgrave asked, getting right down to business.

"No, I haven't," Lenore replied, looking somewhat worried. "You're not going to…like…nothing's gonna hurt right?"

"It shouldn't hurt," Dr. Musgrave informed her. "You might feel a bit of discomfort, but not pain. Now, do you have any idea of when you conceived? Perhaps a particular week or maybe a few particular days."

"January the twenty-seventh," Lenore answered without hesitating.

"Are you positive about that?" the doctor inquired, truly shocked that anyone could pin it down to the exact date.

"A hundred percent positive," Lenore smiled.

"Well…" the woman was quite clearly flustered for a moment. "Oh, did you have it done in an insemination clinic?" She looked relieved at having thought of a way that Lenore could know the exact date.

"Nope, we did it the old-fashioned way."

Mentioning sex certainly didn't seem to embarrass the doctor at all. "And you only tried for a child on one day?" she inquired.

"Well, I was ovulating that day. So we knew that had the highest chances of success. We decided to give it one shot and then wait about a month and see if anything happened," Lenore lied.

"Alright. A bit unorthodox," Dr. Musgrave commented. "Well, you would be almost six weeks along now. The first two weeks of the first trimester are the two weeks before conception. So we're at the point where the morning sickness and the fatigue are getting into full swing."

"You mean last week was just the beginning?" Lenore asked in terror.

"I'm afraid so. At this point, you should definitely avoid alcohol, drugs, and other substances of that nature. I don't advise taking painkillers without consulting me, as certain types can have effects on the embryo. Also, I strongly recommend against treatments such as perms or getting your hair dyed, manicures, pedicures, that sort of thing."

"No problem there, Erik won't let me have any alcohol or drugs, I don't like getting perms or dying my hair, and I'll live without a manicure," Lenore responded. One thing she'd gotten used to in this Second Life was the occasional manicure. But she could remember her First Life, when a manicure wasn't something she cared about. She'd survive the next eight months or so without.

"As far as the embryo's concerned, the heart will start beating within the next few days. The eyes and ears will start forming, and many of the internal organs are rather far along in their development" Dr. Musgrave informed Lenore. "Now, I'm assuming this is the first time you've been pregnant?"

"Yeah," Lenore answered, looking somewhat nervous.

"Alright, was there any bleeding within the past four weeks or so? Even just a few spots?"

"Um…no, I don't recall any," Lenore said after thinking a moment.

"That's a good thing. It means you haven't miscarried up to this point." Dr. Musgrave continued talking while she readied a piece of equipment for the examination. "The next thing we need to discuss is the severity of the morning sickness and fatigue. After you give me your opinion of it, I want your husband to give me his assessment. Because it's your first time, you might think it's extremely severe and unbearable, as you're the one experiencing it. His contribution will help me assess how severe it actually is."

"Well, I think it's really bad," Lenore replied honestly. "I'm tempted to just move in to the bathroom. Save me a lot of time and energy. I feel like nothing stays down except water, and I'm always so exhausted. It's exhausting to just get out of bed."

"I quite agree with her assessment," Erik said when Lenore finished. "She eats six small meals a day and only retains two of those meals. She sleeps quite soundly in between trips to the bathroom and meals. All she does is eat, sleep, and vomit."

"Interesting," Dr. Musgrave mused. The piece of equipment seemed ready now, placed in a male contraceptive rubber that had been positively smothered in jelly. "This is for an ultrasound, Frau Dessler. It's an internal transducer, and it will give us a clearer picture of what's going on in there than an external transducer would. You'll feel a bit of pressure when this goes in, but it's nothing to be concerned about, it's perfectly normal."

A few minutes later, Dr. Musgrave, Erik, and Lenore were staring at the screen, having a peek on what Sonata was doing at the moment. "What's that?" Erik asked worriedly, pointing to something on the screen that Dr. Musgrave had talked about yet.

"When you first described the severity of the morning sickness and fatigue, I had a suspicion, but I didn't want to say anything until we could confirm it through the ultrasound," Dr. Musgrave began. "From your description, it sounded as though you might be having more than one child. So that right there would be the twin."

"Back this train up! I'm having two?" Lenore shouted. "Erik, this is all your fault!" She leaned over and started smacking him on the arm. She didn't know how it was his fault, but somehow, she just had the distinct impression he was to blame.

"I'm not responsible for what your egg does, woman!" Erik argued, scooting his chair out of her reach.

"If you hadn't gone and got me pregnant, this wouldn't be a problem," Lenore pointed out.

"Well, both babies seem to be in great condition right now. I'm going to ask to come back in a week so I can measure their heartbeats," Dr. Musgrave said as if Erik and Lenore weren't bickering over who was to blame for the twins. "Now Lenore, I suggest you include ginger in your diet. It'll help with the morning sickness. I recommend ginger snaps, but no more than four a day. Too much ginger can be bad for you and the babies."

After a few more instructions concerning diet (which limited her to non-greasy and mostly bland foods), they headed back for the hotel. Lenore was glad that they wouldn't be traveling all over Europe for the honeymoon. Erik's plan had been to take the Rhine down to Vaduz, spend the next couple months here, and then go back up the Rhine at the end.

"We'll need another name," Erik pointed out as they walked along the snowy street. He held onto Lenore with a death grip to make sure she didn't slip and fall.

"Are you going to do that whole ring on the string thing again?" Lenore inquired, wishing he'd loosen his grip a bit so that she could have blood flowing through her arm again.

"No," Erik said. "We simply need another name for a girl. Seeing as fraternal twins would indicate two different conception times, you would have felt both being conceived, but you only felt one. Therefore, you originally conceived one but then the egg split and these must be identical twins, which means two girls."

"Not necessarily," Lenore argued. "Harvard med students were saying that in some cases, when the egg splits, one drops a y chromosome and then other drops an x or something, and you end up with a boy and a girl."

Erik quirked an eyebrow at this new information.

"Really, it happens. It's extremely rare, but it's possible," Lenore said. "And I'm not going to pick a name for the second one until we know for sure."

"But"- Erik began to say.

"No arguing! My way or the highway!" Lenore stated firmly. "Now, let's pick up some Chinese, I'm starved."

* * *

"Le gasp! Twins!" Tammy said in surprise.

"What are you acting surprised for? You're the authoress, you knew this was going to happen! You hate me, that's why you made this happen," Lenore yelled, having another wonderful mood swing because of her condition.

"What gender is the other child?" Erik inquired, glaring menacingly.

"EEP!" Tammy squealed, ducking behind Raghnall and Christi. "Raghnall, Hiroshi, save me!"

"But I would very much enjoy studying Erik at work…" Raghnall pouted.

"I'd rather have to be untied to help," Hiroshi pointed out.

"Um…damn," Tammy muttered, wondering if she might be able to retrieve her yummy Uriel for protection. "Well, please review before Erik torments me for the gender of the other child, cuz he'll prolly end up killing me. I won't tell you a damn thing, Opera Ghost! My lips are firmly sealed!"


	43. Chapter 43

Lady Taevyn: Yes, yes, you know the other one's gender. You're the beta, so you get information before other people, didn't rub it in.

Lethia: Lenore's going to go nuts? You don't know the half of it, lol.

Shariena: Read on to see if they're both girls as you suspect.

MJ MOD: You try making Christi stay in Hell…On a side note, I managed not to reveal anything to Erik…well…he read over my shoulder while I typed…he's intimidating…I less than three Erik! (For those of you not understanding, less than three is the same thing as 3, as it's the less than sign and the number three.)

Artzee: You doodled some of the characters (poorly, according to you)? Yay! My story is officially amazing now, I've had someone doodle my characters badly! That makes me happy. I used to do that all the time with the stories I liked. This is so cool, you can't even imagine how happy that makes me.

Adusiriel: At least you got around to reviewing. Try to keep it up.

Black Hole Phoenix: No, no stereotypical 'good twin, bad twin' thing. Maybe it will seem that way with the personality traits they'll end up with, but that's not my intention. Also, seeing as how it is extremely unlikely that any woman would ever conceive fraternal twins at the same moment, it's the natural assumption these twins are identical (which they are).

Sabriel: Yay! A new reviewer!! Happiness abounds in the dorm room of Tammy. As for Raghnall…well…yeah, he's in this chapter, read on.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"It's about time they got back," Hiroshi mumbled bitterly, three months after Erik and Lenore had been married. He was standing in the entrance of their home, which Erik had designed. Workers said that Erik had sent in revisions for the upstairs hallway twice, yet still expected them to finish by the day before Erik and Lenore returned. Hiroshi had seen to it the workers were properly 'motivated' to finish on time. 

And, using Hell's demons, moving everything from the house on the lake to this new dwelling had been as easy as snapping his fingers. Erik had ordered any remaining décor that was necessary, having it delivered early this morning. It had been quite interesting when the delivery men screamed in fright as Veleno dropped out of a second story window on a silk spider thread, gathered a large portion of the upstairs furniture into a cluster secured with his threads, and proceeded to climb back up to the window, towing the large bundle behind him. Of course, he had had to take things in through the window one at a time, but the rest of the bundle hung just outside the window, making it much faster than the delivery men could have done the job.

However, the last three months had been absolutely unbearable for Hiroshi. The stupid cat just wouldn't leave him alone. Even now, standing in the Entrance Hall waiting for Erik and Lenore, the cat was clawing any part of Hiroshi within reach. But that was only because Satan hadn't showed up yet. Raghnall was there with his pet, however, and had Christi sedated to keep her from destroying the house.

A few moments before Erik and Lenore were expected to arrive, Satan appeared next to Hiroshi. Bishop immediately moved to his favorite victim, granting Hiroshi divine relief.

"This cat is a pain," Satan grumbled, glaring at the offensive animal.

"I'm not sure what you're complaining about," Hiroshi snapped angrily. "I've got scars from that monster."

"He's particularly vicious today," Satan noted.

Hiroshi glanced at the cat and saw the reason for the increased ferocity of the attack. "You're standing on his favorite toy."

The moment Satan lifted his foot, Bishop snatched the fish toy, ran twenty feet across the hall from the immortals, set down the fish, and hissed menacingly while puffing up his tail and arching his back.

* * *

"Our lot is how big again?" Lenore asked as they rode in the back of the cab. They'd been driving down the driveway for several minutes now. The area in front of the house seemed to be full of trees and fountains. 

"Three hundred acres," Erik shrugged. The house was set twenty acres away from the main road, and, according to Erik, covered 'a mere fifty acres' of the property. She'd learned they also had a stable with a maximum capacity of two hundred horses, a green house that took one acre of the property, a park that covered one hundred acres behind the house, and a woodsy area for riding that took the remaining one hundred and twenty five acres or so at the rear of the property.

"At least the kids will have a backyard to play in," Lenore commented. "They wouldn't have really had that at our last home. Unless you were intending to let them out to play with the Siren."

"Let defenseless children near that bitch?" Erik said, appearing to have a massive coronary at the thought.

"Well, I doubt they'd be anywhere near defenseless. I mean, just stop and think who the father is for a minute," Lenore replied. "I wouldn't put it past you to teach them the Punjab lasso at the age of two." _There are certain advantages to having a murderer for a father,_ Lenore informed him telepathically, as she didn't wish to share that little tidbit in the company of a cab driver.

_I retired from that line of work. I'm merely a father now_, he responded.

After what seemed like hours, the trees thinned out and Lenore caught sight of the two-story manor sprawling over fifty acres. It took her breath away. She didn't know anything about architecture, but she knew it was beautiful and had to have cost millions to build.

"The exterior is gray fieldstone. I'd hoped you like it," Erik informed her, a smile crossing his lips.

"You people live in a 'ouse this big and you ain't got a limo?" the cab driver inquired in shock.

"Dear God, this had to cost…you could feed a third world country for at least five years with the amount you spent on this house, I'll bet," Lenore estimated.

"Well, those countries are managing to get by, I'm sure," Erik said dismissively. "A home for our children is a bit more important to me."

"How many children do you think we're gonna have?" she returned. "Because I'm not carrying and delivering any more after these two, so if you want more, it's up to you."

The cab pulled to a halt at the base of the marble stairs that led to the marble doorstep (which was enormous, for a doorstep) and Erik got out first, probably testing the air to make sure there were no fumes that would compromise Lenore and the twins. When he decided it was safe, he offered a hand to help her out of the cab.

"You know, I think we'll die from smothering protectiveness before we die from fumes," Lenore remarked.

"Do not reprimand me for being concerned about your health, Madam," Erik replied curtly. Clearly this was one thing he would not ease up on.

"You're like a mother hen with one chick. And the chick is not appreciating it!" Lenore informed him. "I've had enough of that in my First Life, thank you very much."

"You're in a delicate condition; my concern for your well-being is only natural," Erik said in his defense.

"Whatever," Lenore dismissed his last words. Instead, she studied their house. There was a north wing, a west wing, and a south wing. The west wing was the central part of the house, with the north and south wings on either end. Closer inspection revealed that every window was stained glass, a combination of white and black roses. Except for the door and the window above it. The stained glass set in the oak door portrayed deep blue roses, and the enormous rosette window above it combined the white and blue roses in an intricate pattern that her eyes couldn't even begin to follow. She stared at the rosette window for a few moments before throwing her arms around Erik. "I love you."

"I take it you like the house," Erik chuckled as the cab driver got their luggage out of the trunk.

"You vant me to take it in, Monsieur?" the driver inquired, referring to the suitcases.

A window on the second floor flew open. "Do not trouble yourself, mortal insect," a familiar voice called out. Veleno suddenly appeared, descending from the second story window on a fine spider thread. "I shall take the luggage, and deliver it directly to the master bedroom."

"What are you doing in my house?" Lenore snarled angrily as the spider demon rushed over and took the luggage, not even realizing the cab driver was about to have a heart attack at seeing a man with six arms drop gracefully from the second floor window on a simple thread.

"I am a house-warming gift," Veleno informed her. "It seems Raghnall got tired of me. Christiana provides endless hours of study for him, so I'm no longer wanted underfoot. I shall do my best to serve you."

"Your family gives the weirdest gifts," Lenore said to Erik. "Maybe we could put him up for adoption at a shelter or something. I doubt a pet store would take him, unless he's had his shots."

"It would be impolite to refuse him," Erik pointed out as Veleno scurried back up his thread to the second floor window. "We may as well keep him. He can be in charge of security."

"Security?"

"Naturally," Erik replied. "We're a wealthy family, I'm sure many people will come around attempting larceny. If Veleno sets up an intricate system of webs around the perimeter of our property and links them all to a series of bells, we'll know if someone comes trespassing."

"Alright, but he stays as far from me as possible at all times," Lenore commanded.

"As you wish," Erik granted. He turned to the cab driver, who was staring at the window Veleno had disappeared into, disbelief all over the man's face. "You may leave now," Erik informed the man with a look that could have made the dead move. Sure enough, it worked on the driver, who leapt into his cab and sped off down the driveway.

"You could have been a bit less harsh," Lenore commented.

Erik gave no verbal response. He merely lifted her into his arms and carried her up to the door. "Did you know that this tradition has very interesting origins? In Rome, the bride was carried over the threshold so that demons would not trip her when she entered and bring the couple bad luck. On the other hand, this tradition can also be derived from ancient times when the brides were abducted and had to be carried into their new home by force. Now, which meaning should we use?" Erik asked, a playful smirk on his face.

"Let's go with the Rome one. After all, we know for a fact there's a demon in there," Lenore replied.

* * *

Bishop ran over and rubbed against Erik's ankles the moment the man walked in the house. Bishop was delighted that his family was back and he didn't have to stay with these icky, mean people anymore. Though that Christiana girl was very nice and quite helpful when it came to attacking the mean people. He liked her…but none of the other people he'd spent the last three months with. 

He noticed moments later that Fishy hadn't come over to greet the family, so he scampered back over and picked up his friend. Poor Fishy seemed to have a great deal of difficulty walking. Fishy squeaked, which, in this case, was surely meant as a 'thank you'.

By the time he got back to his family, Erik had put Lenore's feet on the floor. (Bishop wondered if she was having some difficulty walking today and needed help like Fishy did.) He rubbed against her ankles, purring contentedly. His ordeal was over, and now the bad people would go away. Lenore always made them go away, they listened when she hissed at them.

"You people live to torment us, don't you?" she snarled at the mean people.

"Oh, come now, kitten, we merely wanted to welcome you back from your trip," Hiroshi said innocently.

"You had to drop off Bishop. You've done that, you can leave," Lenore told Hiroshi. "You, Raghnall, decided to give us Veleno as a gift. Well, even though I'm not fond of the idea, we've received your gift, so you can leave too. And you…" She glared at Satan ferociously. Bishop knew the claws and teeth would come out in a moment, and the fur would start to fly when his mistress attacked the devil. "You don't even need to be here, for any reason. So get out!"

"Erik's one of my children," Satan said loftily. "Thus, your children are, in a sense, my grandchildren. Are you telling me I'm not even allowed to see my own grandchildren? Just remember you wouldn't have these children if it wasn't for my gift."

"You mean your curse," Lenore snapped. "Don't try to play that parent card with me. If you wanna see the kids, take a leaf out of God's book and watch them from your realm."

"I think she's having a mood swing," Hiroshi sagely told Satan, acting as if Lenore wasn't there.

"Well, let's move into the parlor and wait for her humors to balance," Satan replied. He turned and started off into the house, Hiroshi on his heels.

Raghnall was busily scribbling on a piece of parchment, muttering about mood swings and the effects thereof. Christiana sat on the floor, staring off into space. (It always made Bishop sad when Raghnall gave her nasty medicine to make her all sleepy and unresponsive.)

"Your family sucks," Lenore informed Erik.

"Our family, chérie. You knew what you were marrying into," he reminded her. "Perhaps we should follow them?"

So they began to troop after the two mean men that Bishop hated most, with that strange Raghnall following, dragging Christiana along behind him while he continued scribbling and muttering.

In the parlor, Lenore took a seat on one of the sofas, putting her feet up and taking up the entire surface of the furniture. She'd gotten rather large around the middle it seemed. Putting Fishy down beside the sofa, Bishop went up to inspect her, standing on her lap. He first tentatively sniffed the bulge under her middle, wondering if perhaps she had stored something in her fur. He didn't detect any new smells, though, so clearly that wasn't the case. He gently pushed a paw against it, quickly pulling back when he discovered it was rather firm. Bishop then put his ears closer, listening for unusual sounds.

He heard two heartbeats that were not Lenore's, and then he understood. His mistress was having kittens. He would soon have more friends to play with and help him take care of poor Fishy. Fishy would be so delighted when he learned that there would be more friends willing to help him get around the house.

Bishop curled up as close to Lenore's swollen stomach as he could get, listening to the sounds of his new friends and wondering when they'd be ready to come out and play.

* * *

"Aww, he's so sweet," Lenore remarked as Bishop curled up on her lap. He mewed occasionally, as if trying to communicate with the twins. 

"I'll see to it he is vaccinated as soon as possible," Erik said thoughtfully.

Lenore nodded; they'd never taken Bishop to get any shots before now, as they lived under the Opera House and there was little chance of him catching rabies and the like down there. But now that they lived in a real house, aboveground, and there would be small children, he would need to have his shots.

"Have you picked any names for the babies yet?" Hiroshi inquired.

"We picked one…a girl's name…and if that silly ring test was wrong, the poor kid'll be scarred for life," Lenore replied. "Erik insists they'll both be girls, but…"

"I can tell you the genders if you like," Satan offered. Before Lenore could say another word, he leapt up from his chair and hurried over, dropping down beside her and putting a hand on her abdomen, closing his eyes. "Alright, there's the first…a girl. Stop hiding behind your sister, you silly twin. Let me see you a moment." There was a brief pause. "Oh, a boy. That's rare in identical twins." He opened his eyes, and gave Lenore a very serious look. "They're mirror twins as well, so make sure you're extra careful."

"What does that mean?" Lenore asked.

"Mirror twins means that they're mirror images of each other. For example, one will be right-handed and the other will be left-handed. Also internal organs will be flipped in position," Satan explained. "It gives you a higher chance of birth defects, so make sure you monitor your condition carefully."

"This is great," Lenore muttered sarcastically. "Now Erik's gonna baby me even more."

"Don't complain; it's for the safety of our children," Erik reprimanded.

"You know, back in the day, women would do farm work throughout their pregnancy. They didn't stop working until they had to pop the kid out," Lenore said. "If they can work on a farm and not have problems, I think I can handle a bit more physical exertion than what you allow."

"You're in very delicate condition," Erik argued.

"You really should be careful," Hiroshi agreed. "Your biological mother for this life miscarried your twin, you know."

"If you idiots don't keep things that could cause concern to yourselves, I'm going to kill you all," Lenore hissed, glaring at Hiroshi. Truth be told, she hadn't known, as Hiroshi had never discussed this sort of thing with her at all. (Hell, she'd learned less than a year ago that Hiroshi wasn't a biological parent to her.)

"When did it occur?" Erik asked Hiroshi worriedly.

"Um…around about three months if I remember correctly," Hiroshi answered.

"Shut up!" Lenore growled. _Idiot!!! Doesn't he realize I'm around three months pregnant??_

"You're on strict bed rest from this day forward," Erik informed Lenore.

"Define 'strict'," Lenore said.

"You won't be getting out of bed except to go to the bathroom," he responded.

"What? No way, that sucks!" she exclaimed. "Come on, I'm not made of glass! I can get up a bit more often than that!"

"I won't have you risking the children."

"Do you realize that I've got six more months to go? They're not due till the end of October!"

"Twins are usually two weeks premature," Raghnall interjected.

"Okay, fine, the beginning of October then!" Lenore corrected. "I'm not spending May, June, July, August, and September in bed!"

"Would you like to bet on that?" Erik hissed.

"You just try to keep me in bed," Lenore shot back. "I don't have to stay here with you, you know. There's plenty of people close by. I'm sure Mom would love to have me visit. Or Mark and Tori, or Jon and Kathleen, or even Ember and Patrick!"

"You're my wife and"-

"It doesn't mean I have to live with you, moron!" Lenore shouted. "I'm an adult, I can live wherever the hell I want to!"

* * *

Erik took a deep breath to suppress his temper. Lenore was getting far too upset over all this; too much stress was bad for the twins. "Alright," he said after a moment. "You can take a walk every day if you must. But someone will accompany you and you'll not be up for more than a half hour." 

"Why can't I decide how long I get to be out of bed? And I don't need a chaperone," Lenore snapped.

_God! Must she be so damn stubborn? It's for her own good. And the welfare of our twins. Can't she just accept my authority this once and do as I tell her?_

"You don't have any say because you're the wife," Hiroshi put in his two cents. "You don't always know what's best for you. And it's a husband's job to protect and care for his wife. You should be thankful that Erik isn't as old as I am. Back in my day, a woman was sold to the highest bidder. And when you married, you moved into your husband's house. The new bride was very low on the social ladder in the household. The only authority she could have would be over her own children. Until she became the oldest woman in the family anyway. Then you'd be the matriarch of the family and firmly in charge of everyone. Even your husband."

"The immortals are Erik's family, right?" Lenore asked, not waiting for an answer. "Well, I'd be the oldest woman in the family, now wouldn't I? That makes me the matriarch, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does. But the matriarchal system is for eastern Asia, kitten," Hiroshi explained. "In France, it's a patriarchal system. In which case, the head of the family would be Satan."

"Damn you all," Lenore snapped.

Erik shook his head; this was far too stressful for her. He would have to usher the immortals and Satan out as quickly as possible. "Well, it's been a pleasant visit, I suppose. But you should really be going now; Lenore needs her rest," Erik said.

"We can't go yet; there's something I want to show you," Hiroshi exclaimed, leaping out of his chair and beginning to bounce up and down excitedly. "Come on, upstairs."

After Erik helped Lenore to her feet (which she grumbled about severely), everyone obligingly followed Hiroshi up the stairs and down the hall to the nursery. "Close your eyes," Hiroshi demanded of Erik and Lenore when they stopped in front of the door. With a sigh, Erik complied. Moments later, being led into the room, they were given permission to look.

Erik was tempted to hug Hiroshi. Two cradles, exact replicas of the one he had lain in as an infant, were sitting in the middle of the room. Bells had been strung over both cradles, and Erik remembered clearly how much he had enjoyed the bells in those lonely hours when Mademoiselle Perrault wasn't visiting. His mother had never spent more time with him than was absolutely necessary, and his only amusement had been creating simple phrases on the bells. Surely one of his children would inherit a love for music and would find those bells just as wonderful as he had in his early days.

"Where did you get those?" Lenore breathed softly, looking to the side of the room. Erik followed her gaze and saw an old, dark cherry rocking chair with blue cushions and a table holding a whimsical lamp portraying a nursery rhyme of some sort. He slipped into her mind to find the importance of these items. The rocking chair was connected to several memories of sitting in her mother's lap while her mother sung to her; it had been a source of comfort for many of her younger years. The music box in the base of the lamp had been used to play her to sleep when she'd been a toddler, and it had a dim light for her to sleep at night, when she had been too afraid of the darkness to fall asleep without a light to watch over her.

"I know they're only recreations, but…" Hiroshi shrugged apologetically. "The cradles and rocking chair are a gift from the beaver demons. They took great care and had to redo the items a few times to get it perfect. I had to find a specialist here on earth for the lamp."

Lenore flung her arms around Hiroshi, in tears. Most of her words were incomprehensive sobs; the only thing Erik could distinguish was the repeated phrases 'thank you' and 'I love you'. When Hiroshi told her that Satan had suggested it, she turned and embraced the Father of Lies, saying the exact same things she'd said to Hiroshi.

Satan stood stiffly in her arms for a moment before tentatively putting his arms around her and patting her on the back. "It's alright," he assured her. "You don't need to thank me, it was fun…Can you let go now?"

* * *

Lenore sighed heavily, the pillows propped up behind her so she could at least be sitting up in bed. Erik had insisted on fluffing her pillows for maximum comfort. While it was a very nice gesture, Lenore didn't wish to be fussed over so dramatically. 

"Is there a particular reason you're hovering over me?" Lenore inquired.

"I'm not hovering," Erik replied. "I'm…lingering."

"Any reason for it?"

"Well…I thought we could choose a name for our son, now that we know it's a boy…"

"Do you really trust him to tell us the truth?" she said. It was a valid point; since when was Satan trustworthy?

"What names do you like?" came Erik's response.

_Here we go again. _"Christopher, Dirk, George, and Thomas," Lenore listed off. Four choices was a good start, and now all he had to do was pick a few names he liked.

"I like Giovanni," Erik said softly.

"Any other names?" Lenore prompted when he'd been silent for a good two minutes.

"No."

"Oh…o…kay…well then…um, which one sounds best with Giovanni?"

It was silent a few moments while they both contemplated all possible pairings of the names they had suggested.

"Christopher Giovanni," Lenore finally voiced her opinion.

"Thomas Giovanni," Erik said at the exact same moment.

"Oh, I like the Thomas one better," Lenore responded quickly.

"If you prefer Christopher," Erik simultaneously replied.

"Thomas," Lenore firmly asserted. She knew if she didn't make a decision, they'd be switching back and forth for the next few hours until one of them got fed up and yelled at the other.

"I'm glad we've decided," Erik said by way of agreement. "You should get some rest now."

"Okay," Lenore sighed, reluctantly settling in for a long six months of bed rest. Five minutes later, Lenore cracked one eye open to confirm her suspicion. "Erik, you don't need to sit here and watch me rest."

"I merely wish to be here in case you need something," Erik replied.

"If I need something, I'll yell for you," Lenore pointed out.

"What if I'm too far to hear you?"

"Clearly you've never heard me yell for someone before."

"Surely you can't yell quite that loudly, chérie," Erik scoffed.

"Remember when Christi screamed my name at the rehearsal dinner?" Lenore inquired. Erik grimaced, which meant 'yes'. "Well, take that, and amplify it about ten times to get my level of volume. Of course, you could always open up your mind and let me in, so that way you'd know if I even thought I might want something…"

"You haven't learned enough yet for me to risk it," Erik informed her. "You're always…overenthusiastic when I let you in my mind, which is far too dangerous for me."

"Look, if I need something, I'll let you know. Really, I will," Lenore sighed, getting exasperated at being babied in this fashion. "So it's alright for you to look around. Tour the house, make sure everything was built to satisfaction. Check the stables, take a walk in the gardens, whatever. Just find something to do that doesn't involve hovering beside me and treating me like I can't even breathe without risking the babies' health."

"My satisfaction with our house is inconsequential to your needs at this moment," Erik responded.

"If you linger for one more minute, I'll beat the holy hell out of you," Lenore growled.

"Why are you so averse to my concerns?" Erik snarled back. "I wish to be sure you are taken care of. Is that a crime?"

"You sit in a bed for four months not able to walk and see how you feel!" Lenore shouted. "It's the worst to have someone sitting there, always asking what they can do to help. 'Can I get you anything? Can I make you more comfortable? Would you like me to adjust your pillows for you? Let me change the channel for you.' It's fucking annoying! My legs were broken, but I was perfectly capable of making myself comfortable, able to adjust my own pillows and turn the channel if I wanted to! And I hated it when everyone went running to get me something I wanted. It was just another reminder: 'hey, you can't walk right now'. So find something else to do for the next six months that I'll be in bed, or I'll kill you."

* * *

Erik had been pleased to find the house built entirely to his standard. No doubt Hiroshi had a hand in that. Erik had left Lenore an hour ago, and though he was finished with inspecting the house, he knew he'd best stay away for another hour at least, or she'd jump down his throat and rip out his internal organs the moment he walked in the room. 

Of course, he hadn't left her as alone as she thought. He'd opened one of the windows, claiming she should have some fresh air, and Veleno was currently situated beneath the window, ready to retrieve Erik should Lenore express a desire for anything. (She had a habit of talking to herself when she was alone in a room.)

Erik heard a soft sound, someone scurrying around in the room to his left. He opened the door without making a sound and peered in.

"What are you doing?" he inquired.

The girl he'd addressed squeaked like a frightened mouse and dropped her dust rag. She snatched the rag immediately and dove behind the closet piece of furniture, which happened to be a footstool. It did nothing to hide her from his view. "I'm sorry," the girl sobbed softly, her voice almost inaudible. "I have failed. I am a miserable failure, I deserve to have my neck snapped."

"I did not ask for an apology, nor did I express a desire to know what you do or do not deserve," Erik snapped. "State your business, girl, or you'll find how capable I am of giving you what you claim to deserve."

"I was dusting, Master Dessler," the girl explained, still hiding behind the footstool. Her pale green eyes stared intently at the carpet, as if she were trying to pretend no one else was in the room with her. Her mousy brown hair was pulled back in a sloppy bun, and her ears twitched nervously. Everything about this girl's appearance made him think of a mouse.

Erik quirked an eyebrow; he had not hired servants as of yet.

"Oh please give me another chance!" the girl wailed, still managing to keep her voice next to impossible to hear. "You won't see me next time, I promise! Satan will beat me if he knows I failed!"

"What are you?" Erik sighed, already dreading to hear this.

"A mouse, Master Dessler," the girl sniffled. "Just a common house mouse."

"And what is your exact purpose here? What are you doing for that annoying bastard known as the devil?"

"My job is to serve the Dessler family. All the house mice are to serve; that's what Satan sent us for. I'm so sorry, I wasn't supposed to be seen. Please don't tell Satan I failed," she pleaded.

So it seemed Satan had gone to the trouble of supplying Erik with a staff of demons to run his household. Mice demons for the maids, Veleno (who was going to be in charge of security)…God knew what other types of demons were on his property. Naturally, each type would have been placed in a particular position that suited their natural animalistic traits. Mice made perfect sense as maids; mice were quiet, rarely ever seen, and quite sufficient at keeping things clean.

"If you tell me what types of demons are on my staff besides mice, I'll see to it Satan never knows you failed," Erik informed her. He wouldn't have told Satan the girl 'failed' anyway, as he didn't see it as a failure. Erik had sharp ears, and it would have been next to impossible for any creature to avoid detection.

"Oh, I don't know too much," the girl replied. "The Head Housemaid is a…is a…" The girl leaned forward, her eyes darting around nervously as if she were revealing a secret. "A rat," she whispered. Then she promptly gave another fearful squeak, ducking her head and curling up in a ball, trembling.

"Is that all you know?"

"Mistress Rato isn't standing over me with the birch, is she?" the girl asked in a breathy, timid voice.

"No, now tell me anything else you may know," Erik said.

The girl slowly uncurled, looking around frantically for Mistress Rato and the dreaded birch. "Um…deer are the servers for meals, mostly bucks." She giggled suddenly. "They've been tumbling the does that are to serve in the nursery. And the House Manager is a dog, he's very nice to us mice. Much better than…well…you know who I mean. Let's see…butterflies take care of the gardens, and squirrels have the forest. Beavers are maintenance, and…well…I don't for a fact…but I heard the stable staff is all male rabbits, and the head of a stable is a fox! A fox!" She squeaked fearfully again, hugging herself and shivering slightly. "What'll we do? A fox! We're all going to die!"

"If the fox touches a single one of you mice, let me know and I'll see he's appropriately punished," Erik said in an effort to calm the mouse. She merely squeaked again as her eyes began darting around frantically, probably looking for the terrifying fox. "What's your name?"

"Tulia," the girl answered shyly, her eyes meeting his for the first time.

"Tulia. How would you like to be a lady's maid?" he inquired, giving the girl a smile.

* * *

"I didn't call for you," Lenore snapped immediately when Erik walked into the room. A timid young lady was following him. The girl seemed about fifteen years old. She had pale green eyes and mousy brown hair that was pulled back in a messy bun. She wore a dark, full length dress, and had a dust rag in her hand. 

"This is Tulia," Erik introduced the girl. "She's a mouse demon. And, as of now, your personal maid."

"She's just a girl," Lenore said in shock. "You can't employ her, that's – wait, mouse demon? How do we have a mouse demon here?"

"Satan decided to supply a staff for us," Erik replied, a slight scowl crossing his face for a brief moment. "Tulia will spend every moment of her day with you, chérie, so now I can feel comfortable leaving you alone in your condition. Get some rest. I'll see you after dinner."

Lenore stared at him until the door shut softly behind him, then turned her eyes to Tulia, who was standing in a corner and staring at the floor. _I can't yell at her, she's so scared. Maybe she'll leave if I ask her to…_

"Tulia, you don't have to stay here. You can go back to your room for a bit if you like," Lenore suggested.

"I'm supposed to stay with you," Tulia said softly. "Leaving your side without Master Dessler here to take care of you would be a failure. And then…" (the girl started to cry at this point) "…then Mistress Rato would use the birch, and when Satan found out…He has no mercy! Please don't send me away, Madam Dessler, please!"

"Come here," Lenore said. Tulia scurried over, still sniffling and wiping tears away. "Hug." She felt so bad for making the poor girl cry, and the mouse looked so pitiful, Lenore just wanted to hug her to make Tulia stop crying.

Tulia did as she had been told, embracing Lenore gently and trying to cease sniffling.

"Is this making you feel any better?" Lenore asked.

"Um…yes…?" the girl replied. She seemed afraid to say the wrong thing; that would probably be a 'failure' in Tulia's eyes.

"Good," Lenore smiled, patting the girl on the back. _Damn Erik, he knew she was too pitiful for me to turn her away.

* * *

_

The moment Tulia left the room, Erik was thoroughly informed of what was on his wife's mind.

"How dare you! Of all the nerve! I don't need a personal maid, I'm not some spoiled rich girl who needs someone to help her get dressed and wait on her hand and foot!" Lenore growled. "You didn't even bother asking me if I wanted a maid or not! You know I don't want someone fussing over me every minute of the day! And the poor thing is as jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs! She cries at the slightest implication that she might not have done something right, wailing about failing and how Satan's going to punish her! You find something else for Tulia to do or you'll suffer seven different kinds of hell every day for the rest of my life!"

"Firstly, Tulia is far too timid to fuss over you all day. Unless I'm much mistaken, she spent most of the day in the corner, trying not to be seen and only coming out of the corner if you told her to. Secondly, you'd be just as 'jumpy' as Tulia were you in her position. The Head Housemaid is a rat demon, and rats have been known to eat mice. Her fear is only natural. As to her fear of how Satan will punish her…I think you would find it hard not to be afraid if Satan were your master, ma petite," Erik explained. "If we dismiss her as your personal maid, it would be considered a failure. Surely you wouldn't want her to be punished just because you don't want a maid."

"Oh, that's low," Lenore hissed. "The guilt card. You should be ashamed of yourself for pulling that on your pregnant wife."

"Well, it serves you right," Erik informed her. "You don't want me to be here in case you need something. So I'll see to it that someone is here to take care of your needs."

"Since when does a grown woman need twenty four hour supervision?" Lenore argued.

"Since she became pregnant with identical mirror twins and her mother was known to have miscarried said woman's twin brother," Erik snapped.

"And whose fault is that?" she replied heatedly. "Hm? Who got me into this situation? Maybe it was the man who forgot to tell me he was fertile!"

"Is it a crime, woman?" he shouted, losing his temper. "Is it wrong of me to want a family? I didn't tell you because I knew you'd feel at fault if nothing happened that night! You would've hated yourself and hid your pain and misery from me, slowly killing yourself with your grief! I couldn't bear to see you do that to yourself, to watch you gradually but surely commit suicide! So, Madam, is it really so awful? Is it unbearable to be pregnant? Do you hate bearing the children of a man who merely wants to see his wife alive and happy?"

"I'm sorry," she said, sniffling. "I'm such a horrible wife, I'll suck as a mother."

He'd forgotten she was still very emotional. Thankfully it was tapering off. "Forgive me, I shouldn't have yelled at you," Erik apologized. Frankly, he felt as if 'forgive me' and 'I'm sorry' were the main phrases in his vocabulary ever since she conceived the twins.

"No, you shouldn't have," she agreed, sniffing again. "And you shouldn't be so oppressive with the strict bed rest and chaperoning."

"I'm sorry."

"No you're not! If you were, you'd say I can get up and that I don't have to have someone hovering over me every second of the day."

"I never said I was apologizing for being so strict; I was expressing sympathy for the fact that you find it oppressive." _Damn, I shouldn't have said that…_ He cringed, waiting for the tears or the angry shouts, but neither came. He turned to look at her and found her staring off into space. "Chérie?"

"I have a sudden urge to go shopping," she said dreamily.

It seemed her concentration had slipped for a moment, which was rather fortunate for Erik. And he most certainly was not about to bring up those words he'd said that would start another argument. "What do you need?" he inquired.

"I wanna buy cute fleecy sleepers, and fluffy baby blankets, and soft plush aminals," she explained, looking thoroughly excited at the process of buying things for the twins.

"Aminals?"

"Aminals. You know, multicellular organisms that move and respond to stimuli and don't use photosynthesis to survive," Lenore informed him. "Plush aminals are usually mammals, like fluffy sheepies, or cuddly bears, or soft kitties, or cute puppies."

"I believe you mean 'animal'," Erik hesitantly attempted to correct her.

"No. Aminal! Didn't you ever say a word incorrectly as a child? It's aminal. Yes, I can say animal if I want, but I prefer aminal! So I wanna go shopping for sleepers and blankies and aminals," Lenore replied. "Can't we go? Please?"

"What brought this on?" Erik inquired. It was such a sudden change from their current topic that he began to worry if this was some odd pregnancy disease.

"Well, I was saying that I don't want to be watched every second of the day, and then I thought about having to watch over the babies all the time. And I was envisioning them in little fleecy sleepers with cute blankets and aminals in the cradles when I realized we don't have any. They need sleepers and blankets. And I want them to have aminals."

"The shops will be closed by the time we could reach Paris tonight," Erik told her. "Perhaps this trip could wait until tomorrow?"

"Yay! Baby shopping," she cheered. "Ooh, let's get rubber ducks too, and little booties and"-

Erik stopped listening at that point. It seemed she intended to bankrupt him in one fell blow. At least it was justifiable; the twins did need clothes and the like.

* * *

"Baby things," Lenore said in a singsong voice.

"Yes, but we'll not see the baby shopping," Tammy informed her heroine gently.

"But…we still get to go, right?" Lenore asked.

"Sure. Um…you should go now…" Tammy muttered.

"Come on Erik, we'll take the bus," Lenore crowed, grabbing Erik by the arm and dragging him out of the dorm.

"Isn't that sweet? Kitten's first shopping trip for the babies," Hiroshi sighed wistfully. "I remember buying her clothes when she was little…she was such a cute child."

"Excuse me? That's my heroine you're talking about! Stop thinking about her, she doesn't need added stress right now!" Tammy reprimanded.

"Oh, fine. I'll just think about ravaging you instead," Hiroshi responded with a devious and suggestive smirk. "I can just picture your delicate naked form, slick with sweat and blood from"-

"Ha ha, I cut you off in mid sentence," Christi cackled maniacally, pointing and laughing at Hiroshi. A roll of duct tape was clutched firmly in one of her hands, and a nice long strip of the duct tape was currently covering Hiroshi's mouth.

"Good job, Christi," Tammy beamed. "Anyway, you all know the drill. Send reviews."

"Christiana, what were you thinking?" Raghnall sighed. "You should untie him so that I can study her sexual behaviors while Hiroshi has his fun with her."

"Um…Raghnall…no," Tammy said. "MJ MOD left Uriel a voice mail asking for his help, so just know that an archangel might pop in any moment now and smite you for even suggesting such a ludicrous thing."


	44. Chapter 44

Lady Taevyn: I'm sorry you're not pleased with the return of Veleno. I also regret that you think Erik is being a jerk. (Yeah, he is, I know. But…it's Erik…he gets that way sometimes.)

Lethia: We had the whole twin discussion, it's all good now…I think…And just remember, it's the dumbass medical people's fault.

Shariena: I'm glad you like the idea that it's a boy and a girl. Also, I didn't really intend for Tulia to come off like a house elf. I just tried to make her a mousy as possible, and the house elf thing is just an added bonus.

MJ MOD: Yes, Erik is very happy that there are no neighbors, lol. Lenore does act childish sometimes, but it's not really an effect of her pregnancy. She's a Gemini. Gemini tend to be very random and switch personalities in the blink of an eye. It's merely her personality coming out some more. (Do remember that Erik told her not to wear masks for him.) And if Uriel won't come save me, Michael is an acceptable replacement. I would prefer Raphael, but Michael will do if worst comes to worst.

Artzee: Scan the pictures and send them to me. I'm sure I've drawn just as badly back in my day. And as for Erik's reaction to Barney and Dora and the like…well, Lenore isn't going to buy junk like that. We're very anti-Barney (that involves an embarrassing incident I won't even go into) and anti-Dora. Boo on the Spanish learning! Learn different languages, like German. Or something really challenging like Japanese. Blue's Clues used to be okay…but now the clues sing and it's getting absolutely ridiculous. Though I love Periwinkle! Periwinkle's sooo cute. I should get a job on Blue's Clues as Periwinkle's "friend". (aka, owner)

Adusiriel: It's not bad to start liking Satan at all. Satan rather enjoys the attention.

Black Hole Phoenix: I know you didn't review yet. But chapter 43 has been up for a week! A week!! And I felt everyone rather deserved another chapter before I'm home for break. So you'll just have to deal with it I suppose. I mean, I postponed putting up this chapter trying to give you time to read and review.

Sabriel: I'm very pleased that you like the demon aminal servant thing. Very good. I rather enjoy it myself. Oh the possibilities that lie before me…

Jadesy: It's okay, I understand that people don't always have time to read and review. And I understand how you want to hit Erik for being overprotective, and want to hug him for being overprotective at the same time. It's like "How annoying!" and "How sweet!" at the same time.

BrackCatOden: Um, you'll have to ask Satan if you want any house demons…I'm hoping he'll give me some for Christmas, but that's looking iffy. And yeah, Hiroshi and Satan were nice to have those things made, they're not so bad as we all thought.

Der Drache Dame: Lol, oh the circumstances through which you found me. It's a small world after all, and all that jazz. (I shall give Lady Taevyn a bone-crushing hug when I next see her.) I'm glad that you like my story so much. I enjoy talking to you over instant messenger, and I'll mention the wonderful thing you're doing for me at the end of the chapter.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"Oh, look, they're bonding," Lenore cooed happily as she stared at the screen during her ultrasound. Thomas was clutching Sonata closely, and it seemed as if he was trying to hide his sister from their view.

"She's not pushing him away; that's a good sign," the gynecologist, Dr. Durand, noted. "Some twins don't get along at all in utero, and then they tend to take extreme aversion to each other after birth. On the other hand, if they're very close in utero, then they seem to adore each other after birth."

Lenore was on six months along now, so she was seeing Dr. Durand every other week. At Erik's insistence. Dr. Durand had mentioned it wasn't really necessary to see Lenore that often till about seven or eight months, and the poor woman had suffered a rather scathing, condescending lecture about serving her patients in the manner they wish to be served, not based upon her preference. And when the doctor had attempted to have Lenore back up her side of the argument, Lenore simply shrugged and informed the woman that it was Erik's money. If he wanted to waste it on unnecessary appointments, so be it.

Before leaving the gynecologist's office, Dr. Durand ran over the symptoms of labor. She'd been familiarizing Lenore with them for the past month, another thing Erik had insisted on. Lenore didn't really care about that; the more they went over it, the more likely it was she would recognize the signs should she go into labor prematurely. Which, due to the twins, was extremely likely.

When Dr. Durand tried to review Braxton Hicks, Lenore spouted out everything the doctor had told them concerning this. Lenore had heard it three times already, and Erik had memorized it the first time. If she even expressed the tiniest pain that might be related to Braxton Hicks, she had to try shifting positions. If that did not alleviate the pain, she had to immediately get herself into a warm bath.

_I pity these children…their father's going to kill them with his obsessive need to protect._

"Ugh," Lenore muttered when she felt the muggy July heat as they stepped out of the building.

"What did you say?" Erik inquired worriedly. "Is something wrong? Are you having a contraction?"

"No," Lenore sighed. "I just feel like a beached whale, that's all. I'm huge and the sun beats upon me relentlessly, and it's difficult to breathe. Surely that's how a beached whale must feel."

"I'll call the doctor before you next appointment and have her come to the house from now on," Erik promised Lenore.

"Don't. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time, Erik. I'm sure many, many, many women felt this way when pregnant in the summer, and they all survived it. I'll manage," Lenore tried to assure him.

"But"-

"You were born in August. You're mother had to be bigger than I am now, and she lived through it," Lenore snapped. "Are you trying to tell me that I'm weaker than your mother?"

"She wasn't having twins…" Erik murmured, clearly having no solid way to combat her accusation.

"Why don't we have a car?" Lenore inquired as Erik prepared to hail a taxi.

"I don't drive," Erik pointed out.

"But I do. Well, I'd have to get my license here in France I guess, but I have the knowledge to drive a car anyway. And it's not like we can't afford it. It'd be nice to have a car. We wouldn't need to pay a taxi to drive us all over creation anymore."

"Chérie, where am I employed?"

"The Opera House, but"-

"Then you know why we don't have a car," Erik interrupted her.

"Just because it's next to impossible to find a place to park the car in Paris is no reason not to have one," she countered.

"I see little point in spending all that money for something that will only see occasional use," Erik sighed.

"I see a huge point!" Lenore snapped. (They'd had this argument once before, and Lenore had let him win that battle. When all was said and done, she was determined to win the war.) "I don't want to have to wait for a taxi to get to our house when I'm in labor and want to be in the hospital with drugs to help alleviate pain."

"Let me remind you that I'm incapable of driving. And I seriously doubt you'll be in any condition to drive if you're in labor," he replied.

"Like you can't learn to drive in the next few months," Lenore grumbled.

"Labor takes hours, ma petite; waiting for a cab won't kill you," Erik said, his tone implying that the 'discussion' was over.

"You know, I might just manage to wiggle my way through your barrier and slip into your mind just to share the pain of childbirth," Lenore mumbled. "Then you'll wish we had a car to get me to the hospital for drugs without having to wait."

"Quite vindictive, aren't you?" Erik remarked casually.

"Can't we get a car?" Lenore whined.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

"Why did you say no?"

"Because I don't want one."

"Why don't you want one?"

"Because I don't."

"That's not good enough. Give me a better answer."

"I don't want a car because it gives you unlimited freedom," Erik replied after a moment.

"You have five seconds to explain that before I lose control of my temper," Lenore hissed.

"You're a shameless flirt, Lenore, whether you'll admit it or not," Erik informed her coldly. "If you need examples, look at that little kissing game you played with Hiroshi. Or there's always that little – I suppose 'fling' is the word – that you had with that damn archangel. Both of which occurred when you were engaged. Engaged, woman! You knew you were to be married and yet you flirted with those men. And certainly didn't display any remorse over either incident. You are a typical Gemini, and I'll not have you out flirting with other men. Having a car would be akin to asking you to go out and have affairs."

Lenore was itching to slap him, but if she knocked off that flesh-tone mask in public, she had no doubt she'd be dead before Erik could manage to restrain himself. "Maybe I am a typical Gemini," she growled softly. "But you're a typical Leo, full of pride and unable to stand the thought that you might not be the center of my world. You think I belong entirely to you. Marriage is not an ownership, it is a partnership! And if you want to raise these children with me, then you'd best come to terms with that. Because if you can't, the only road we're headed down is the one that leads to divorce. I'll raise and support these children on my own before I let them see their mother being treated as their father's trophy!"

Erik looked about to erupt. Lenore could practically see steam coming out of his ears. But he'd asked for it. After a few minutes of glaring at her, Erik returned his attentions to procuring a cab. Of course, in his current agitated state, any cab driver would have to be insane to stop. She suspected the only reason one taxi finally pulled up to the curb was because of her presence. Having twins, she looked much further along than she truly was and it seemed the older gentleman driving the cab took pity on her condition.

Lenore opened the door and slid into the back seat (a process that took more time than usual because of the size of her stomach) while Erik stood next to the driver's window, informing the man of their destination and such. Or at least, that's what she thought he was doing. She was shocked when Erik closed the door without getting in and handed the man enough Euros to get her home. The driver took off before she could open the door and tell Erik to get in the cab. _I'm going to have a few words with you when you get home, you jackass.

* * *

_

Ember quirked an eyebrow. "I wasn't expecting any guests today, least of all you," she remarked from the doorway leading into the entrance hall. Erik was standing in the parlour of the O'Malley household. His stance and the atmosphere around him suggested a fierce anger that he was just barely managing to contain. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Thank you, Madam. That would be delightful," Erik replied. It was a very proper and polite response, but it was delivered in a tone that made her shiver. Her first assessment of Erik's mood was incorrect; fierce anger didn't even begin to describe it.

"I think you need a Jolly Rancher," Ember commented. "Wait here, I'll be back in a minute." She walked to the kitchen as quickly as possible without actually running. She mixed up the drinks, hurrying through that as well. She wasn't eager to go back to him; Ember had the feeling that his temper had him on the verge of committing murder at the moment. But then again, she didn't want to keep him waiting lest he decide to kill her for taking so long.

Ember found him standing exactly where she had left him, still staring out of the window with an unreadable expression on his face. Erik didn't even register that she'd returned until she shoved his Jolly Rancher into his hand.

"Maybe you'd like to have a seat?" Ember suggested, gesturing to the nearest sofa as she sipped her own beverage.

Erik said nothing. He simply walked over and dropped down onto the furniture with an exasperated sigh. Ember settled herself next to him, wondering how often she would find herself as the councilor for her sister's marriage.

"It's muggy out today," she said conversationally. Erik had to be the one to bring up the subject of what was bothering him; he wouldn't appreciate it if he thought she was trying to pry into things. The only response to her statement was silence, and she suspected he wasn't really listening to her. "The sky is green and the grass is blue." Silence echoed in the parlour.

"Am I arrogant, Madam?" he finally inquired.

"Honestly? You're almost overbearingly arrogant," Ember replied. She wasn't going to lie to spare his feelings, and she had a feeling an honest answer would help solve whatever problem he'd come here with.

Erik sighed and took a gulp of his drink. "Do I give off the impression of viewing my wife as property?" came his next question.

"Yeah," Ember said. "But it's not really your fault. For at least the first one hundred years of your life, that's what a woman was. That's how society saw women. And it's not exactly easy to just disregard the societal views imprinted since birth."

Erik downed the rest of his drink in one quick gulp. "I worry," Erik sighed. "I worry about her flirtatious nature. I fear that…I'll wake one morning to find her gone. No note, no explanation, just gone."

"And you thought that once you got married, you wouldn't have to worry about that sort of thing. Divorce wasn't a big thing in your day, but now it happens a lot," Ember said sympathetically. "As for her flirting…you've got to understand something about Lenore. Our father was hardly ever home, so she never really established a relationship with Dad at all. And Mom was always telling me and Lenore that we were accidents, complaining about how we weren't as wonderful as Mark and Jon. Growing up, we pretty much only had each other. Which isn't all that good, especially when we were both teenagers and always at each other's throats because of hormones. So I guess Lenore's spent a lot of her life feeling like no one loves her at all, which leads her to look for love anywhere she thinks she can get it."

"But she knows I love her. Why isn't that enough for her?" Erik snarled.

"Well, she's trying to make up for a lifetime of not feeling wanted. But the most likely reason she flirts is because you're so possessive. She's afraid that you'll manage to keep her locked away from the world, and that once you know you have her for good, you'll stop wanting her," Ember explained. "She worries you'll find someone else, and she'll be left unloved and unwanted again. Lenore is so afraid of rejection, Erik. Now that she knows for sure about what happens to someone after death, her biggest fear is rejection."

"How could she think I would ever stop loving her?" he whispered.

"It's purely psychological, Erik. But you don't like psychiatrists, so you'll have to figure out how to break her out of that. One thing I recommend is letting her have some freedom. Think of her like a mouse. She's small, and easily frightened. But if you provoke her, or attack her, she'll turn and nail you. She knows how to defend herself, and to run away if she comes across an adversary she can't handle. You're like a boa constrictor; you're afraid she'll run away, so you wrap her in your coils, tightening your grip ever so slowly. But she sees this, and squirms and nips at you because she's afraid of being hurt. If you want her to stay, you've gotta loosen your coils and show her there's nothing to be afraid of. Show her there's no need to fear by letting her know you're not going to go ballistic if she goes off for a bit, and that'll you always be right there waiting when she comes back."

"What if she doesn't come back? What if she leaves like Christine did?"

"Then I'd have to say that you held on too tightly," Ember shrugged. "That might not be what you want to hear, but it would be the only reason. And I doubt that she wouldn't come back. Think about it! She came back after dying and being reborn. Doesn't that tell you anything?"

"I can't help but worry"- Erik started to say.

"I know. Christine fucked you over Erik, there's no doubt about that. But you can't expect that, just because Christine left you, everyone else in your life will run off as well. You and Lenore need to trust each other. And the best way to get Lenore to trust you is to show her that you trust her. Let her know that you trust her to be loyal and always with you, and she'll start to learn to trust that you won't hurt her," Ember advised.

They sat in silence for a good half hour, Erik contemplating what Ember had said and Ember hoping her words had gotten through.

"Thank you, Madam," Erik finally said, standing and handing her his empty glass. "I'll do what I can."

"Can't ask for more than that," Ember replied, standing as well. "And if you have any more problems, I've got more Jolly Ranchers. Drop by any time, day or night."

* * *

Lenore sat in the parlour, Bishop curled up on her lap and flicking his tail in consternation. He seemed puzzled over the fact that she had returned home alone and had not immediately retired to the master bedroom as was the norm. Tulia was curled up in a corner of the room, sobbing softly about having failed and how she was to be punished. One of the twins kicked under Lenore's ribs with surprising strength, probably picking up on her bad mood.

She had been waiting for two and a half hours when the House Manager, Gordon, led Erik into the parlour. Crossing her arms over her chest, Lenore fixed Erik with a deadly glare and waited for the inevitable shouts that she should be in bed resting, how dare she be sitting up, and so on.

Surprisingly, Erik sat down next to her on the sofa and handed her a stack of information on cars from every dealer within a fifty mile radius. "If you want a car, I suppose it will be…acceptable," he said, not looking at her.

"You're in big trouble," Lenore informed him, trying not to let her shock and delight make her forget how angry she was with him. "Putting me in a cab like that and sending me off! What were you thinking? What if the driver was some sort of pervert or psycho murderer? You can never know what will happen to a girl alone in a cab! So, where did you go? Did you get drunk?"

"I sent you home ahead of me because I had some errands to run," Erik replied. "The driver looked reliable. Had he proved otherwise, I would've hunted him down and made him pay for the wrong he had committed. I visited your sister before gathering those brochures for you. While at your sister's house, I had one drink. So, no, I didn't get drunk."

Lenore was about to scold him for visiting her sister without her when she realized he had probably wanted to ask Ember for some advice on how to handle Lenore and their relationship. _If that's what he saw her for, then I really ought to forgive him for sending me home alone. At least he's trying._

"Are you going to learn how to drive?" Lenore asked conversationally, paging through one of the brochures.

"Perhaps," Erik shrugged.

"I think you should. You never know when the occasion might call for you to have the ability to drive," Lenore pointed out. "What if something happened to me and I needed to be taken to the hospital? Like if I fell down the stairs and cracked open my head or something?"

Erik sighed. "If it's important to you, I'll learn," he said after a moment.

* * *

Erik put the car in park and waited for the instructor's assessment. He'd wasted a month waiting for the written test, which he had passed with flying colors. (Erik had to do quite of bit of mind altering to even apply to take the tests and lessons.) This had been his first lesson during which he was actually driving the car.

"Have you ever gone for your license before?" the instructor asked, looking at her clipboard in consternation.

"No," Erik answered.

"Well…um…you…did perfectly on that run," she said, still scanning her clipboard in the attempt to find something done wrong.

"Really?" Erik inquired, doing a spectacular job of acting shocked by this information.

"Absolutely, I'm not kidding," the woman replied. "I think you could take and pass the test today."

Naturally Erik could. He had linked with Lenore's mind last night and viewed her knowledge of driving. His mind, in a sense, made a copy of that knowledge, so that Erik had possessed the knowledge of how to drive in general when he came in for his lesson. And when he'd met the instructor, he'd slipped into her mind and picked up all the differences of driving in America to driving in France, and copied that as well.

And so Erik ended up taking the test the very next day, passing that just as superbly as he had the written examination. Lenore had decided on the car she liked best from the brochures, and Erik decided to stop at the dealership and buy one of that model in the color she had selected.

It had been a rather difficult process, as Lenore had desperately tried to find a car for a relatively low price that she liked. Finally Erik took all the brochures from her, going through them and inking out the prices so she'd make her decision based on what she truly wanted rather than a car that would be inexpensive.

The man at the dealership who sold the car to Erik almost passed out when Erik handed him the exact amount of Euros for the car, which was worth about one hundred and fifty thousand American dollars. Erik had no qualms over spending that much money, as he could easily earn that much in three months, not to mention that he still had quite a large amount stashed away at home.

He drove the car home, knowing Lenore would be pleased to have a car and a husband that was licensed to drive it.

"Gordon, where's Lenore?" Erik inquired the moment he set foot in the house. Gordon always seemed to know when Erik was coming home and was therefore always waiting at the door.

"She's upstairs, in the bath," Gordon replied. "Another bout of Braxton Hicks, she said."

Erik bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time, then dashed to the master bedroom. Tulia squeaked in surprise at his sudden appearance when he dashed past her into the bathroom. "Chérie, I have a surprise for you," Erik informed Lenore, who was sitting in a steaming bathtub with her eyes closed and looking as miserable as she could manage.

"Did you pass?" she inquired, sounding exhausted.

"Yes," Erik sighed. "As soon as you're out of the tub, I have something I wish to show you." He knew from her tone she had just gotten in the bath and she wasn't going to rush, so he would be waiting a good half hour to show her the car. He wouldn't want her to rush anyway, but it was still somewhat disappointing that he would have to wait so long. And she might be able to guess what his surprise was in that amount of time.

* * *

"How much did it cost?" Lenore demanded when she saw the car.

"A reasonable price for the quality," Erik replied evasively. "You do like it, don't you ma petite?"

"Well, it's a very pretty color…and I like the make and model. But how much did it cost?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," she responded. "How much?"

"Only about a hundredfiftythousand," Erik said, squishing the price into one word.

"A hundred and fifty thousand? Do you have any idea what insurance on this sucker's gonna be like?" Lenore gasped.

"It's not an issue, ma chouchoute," he assured.

"It will be if those new managers try to develop a backbone," Lenore snapped. Ember was retiring from her managerial position at the Opera House this year, and Rosalyn was staying on as senior manager for a year to make sure the new managers had the run of things down before turning over the business to them.

"I'll make certain they're aware of my presence next week," Erik responded. The new managers would be starting next week, and Erik intended to pay them frequent visits. "They won't dream of rebellion after a little…display of my talents."

"There will be no death involved," Lenore said sternly.

"Accidents happen…"

" 'Mommy, what does Daddy do at the Opera House?' 'Daddy causes accidents that kill people, Sonata.' 'Why?' I am not having that conversation with our children. No deaths, accidental or otherwise," Lenore snapped.

"I can't prevent suicides, keep that in mind," Erik replied.

* * *

Rosalyn studied the two men sitting before her, both in their late twenties. Justin Evans and William Steele, two cousins who were interested in the fine arts. Their relation was very clear, and the two young men could have passed as brothers. They shared the same chestnut brown hair, the same shocking green eyes, and the same slightly large nose. _These boys have their work cut out for them._

"I think it best if we go over a few sections of the contract you signed, just to make sure you're clear on a few things," Rosalyn suggested, unlocking the bottom drawer of her desk and retrieving said contract.

"I believe we're both quite clear on the terms, Madam," Justin said with a subtle English accent.

"It really isn't necessary to go over it," William agreed. He seemed to share his cousin's accent.

"I'm your senior manager, and an old woman to boot. Humor me," Rosalyn replied, slapping the contract down on her desktop.

The boys gave each other an identical look that implied Rosalyn should've retired years ago for her own mental health, but that they had best let her have her way for the time being.

Rosalyn shook her head at the foolishness of these two men, paging through the contract until she came to the page she was looking for. "Clause Ninety Eight, Section Five. One of my favorites. Pain in the ass for years, but worth every penny, gentlemen," she informed them, sliding the contract over to them.

"Madam, this wasn't on the contract when we signed it," Justin said, a dark look crossing his face.

"Of course it was," Rosalyn lied. "It's a rather large document, you probably just overlooked that condition."

The condition in question detailed the Opera Ghost's salary, including the amount he expected, when he expected to receive it, etc. _Just wait till I show them the added part about Erik's reservation of Box 5._

"Don't be daft, Justin, it's a joke," William ascertained with a chuckle. "Paris Opera House, Opera Ghost…a clever little joke on Madam Johannson's part.

"Oh, that's right," Rosalyn said dryly. "A little joke on my part. It was absolutely hilarious when I forked over that much money every month for the past twenty some years."

The boys shared another one of those 'the woman is insane' looks.

"Moving on," Rosalyn mumbled, snatching the contract back and paging through it again. "Here it is." She returned the contract to them yet again.

"We can't sell Box 5? Absurd," William commented.

"Surely this is just a prank of some sort, Madam," Justin practically begged.

"Let me put it as clearly as I can, gentlemen. As long as I'm senior manager, that salary will be paid, and Box 5 reserved. When I retire, and you take over, you can do what you like. And when someone dies because you couldn't see fit to meet these conditions outlined in a contract you signed, give me a call. I'll want to know who it is and when the funeral's being held," Rosalyn said sharply.

"If this is a joke, you're taking it too far," Justin snapped. "I, for one, will not be bullied into"-

He cut off mid sentence, the color draining from his face. William's face was paling as well.

"Who is that?" William stammered. "Who's there? Show yourself! This isn't amusing, whoever you are."

"That's the Ghost, gentlemen," Rosalyn said with a knowing little smirk. She couldn't hear a thing, but she knew Erik was whispering about their darkest secrets in their minds. "As you see, it's not a good idea to upset him. He knows everything, and he won't hesitate to make your private business public in the interests of getting what he wants."

"This is a hoax of some kind," Justin proclaimed angrily, jumping to his feet. "Where is this man hiding?"

"It's not a man, it's a Ghost," Rosalyn replied. "I've seen him, a few times over the last twenty years. As to where he hides…who's to say the dead don't linger in their favorite haunts from life?"

"A spirit wouldn't ask you for a salary," William pointed out.

"But do the dead know they're dead? As he sees it, he's still alive. After all, he can affect things in the living world," Rosalyn shrugged.

"This is ridiculous," Justin hissed. "We'll expose this prankster before you retire, Madam Johannson, and prove to you that this is no ghost."

"Good luck," she chuckled wryly. "Back to business. Another thing I believe I should mention is that he'll suggest whom you cast and what roles they are to be given. Take his advice. He has that other-worldly omniscience, and I've only ever profited from listening to his recommendations. Arrange your cast to his specifications and you'll sell out at every performance. With the exception of Box 5, that is."

* * *

"How did things go on your first day?" a blonde boy who looked barely out of his teens inquired. His iron gray eyes studied William Steele in a fashion that betrayed the cruel, shrewd mind this young man possessed.

"Everything was as you said, master," William replied, giving a quick, but respectful bow. "I reacted accordingly."

"And I assume the Ghost made no mention of me? He didn't realize you've been tampered with?" the boy probed.

"No, master, not at all," William answered.

"Very good. You are dismissed," the boy said, waving the man away. "There's much to be done, but at least things have been set in motion."

* * *

"Who the bleeding hell is that?" Lenore roared, glaring suspiciously at the authoress.

"Someone who will be important," Tammy said evasively. "Hey peoples, we have something really special going down. Der Drache Dame has taken it upon herself (with my consent and aid) to write a sort of prequel to this story. It gives a bit more detail on Ellen's story. (Remember Ellen? She's the dead body on a rope in the cellar.)"

"Why did I have to learn how to drive?" Erik grumbled.

"Because Lenore wanted you to."

"I wanted to see him get all frustrated and stuff trying to learn," Lenore mumbled, studiously avoiding Erik's eyes.

"Thank God we have an intelligent authoress," Erik said with a slight smile.

"Ooo, I got a smile," Tammy giggle, blushing. "I'm feeling rather flirtatious right now…"

"Perhaps you'd untie me then?" Hiroshi proposed.

"Um…will you promise to let me tie you back up the moment I feel uncomfortable with you being loose?" Tammy inquired.

"Naturally. Anything you wish, cupcake," Hiroshi grinned.

"I wouldn't trust that grin," Raghnall commented absently.

"Eh, why not? I'm done finals, another semester of college is behind me. I'm feeling pretty good," Tammy beamed, bouncing over to Hiroshi and releasing him. "Okay, recap of the main points I have made, and the points I meant to make that I probably forgot to. Number One: Der Drache Dame is writing prequel, I'll let you know when it's out. Number Two: Semester's over and it's time for winter break. Won't be back until January 15th (I think I come back then, maybe it's the week after…or the week before…whatever, just gonna be gone for awhile. I'll prolly be able to read your messages/reviews, so go ahead and send away. Der Drache Dame, email me with any questions for the prequel, or email me snippets of anything you write. I will make every effort to get back to you as quickly as possible. Number Three: Keep up the reviewing to those of you who review. To those of you who don't, take a moment and review! You can just type in the review book "Yay!". One word, to show your joy at having another chapter…not that difficult, really."

"You do realize that's a huge paragraph that is probably full of grammatical errors, don't you?" Hiroshi asked.

"Eh, so what? I'm not perfect. And I'm in an extremely hyper active mood," Tammy responded, taking a sip from the 24 ounce pepsi beside her.

"No more caffeine, cupcake," Hiroshi sighed. However, he dared not try to enforce those words lest Tammy decided it merited tying him up again.


	45. Chapter 45

Lady Taevyn: Yes, yay for Erik learning to drive and the babies liking each other.

Lethia: You asked about our new unknown young man and called him a punk. Well, the questions may not be answered for quite a while.

Shariena: Only I (and two other people, my beta reader and my sister) know who 'he' is.

MJ MOD: A very interesting idea, that Thomas is hiding Sonata from view in utero because she has their father's deformity…

Artzee: Still waiting for those pictures you drew…And, yes, yay for Drache Dame!! Go check her out (she's listed as one of my fav authors), she wrote a Christmas parody for this story. Erik's Christmas Misadventure.

Adusiriel: I'm glad you find Ember awesome. The sister Ember has been based upon is pleased as well. She has a fan.

Black Hole Phoenix: Photo-copy machine in Erik's head, lol! And yes, kill the new managers if they screw things up at the Opera House.

Sabriel: Yes, new character. He will remain a mystery…until the time is right to reveal his secrets.

Jadesy: It's so flattering that you feel like you did something worthwhile with your time when you read one of my chapters. (blushes)

Der Drache Dame: Our new weird character is not Satan. Good try, but no, not the Prince of Darkness. He wouldn't work in the shadows like that, he'd be a bit more direct when messing with the Opera House.

Nobody of Importance: Wow, I'm glad you find my story to be so good and that it held your attention so long. And I think it's absolutely wonderful that you scared some people laughing at the comic relief I've put in.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore paced around her room worriedly. It was around eight o'clock in the evening on October 22nd, and the twins would be full term in five days. Erik had gone out to the Opera House, to see the show and harass the junior managers for a bit after the performance. A storm had come up, and rain lashed the glass in the window panes. Wind howled around the house like a vicious monster, and thunder rumbled ominously. It made the twins restless.

Very restless.

Too restless.

"Maybe you should sit down," Tulia suggested timidly.

"I don't think it's going to help," Lenore responded. She checked her watch and muttered angrily. These weren't Braxton Hicks, they were real contractions. And they'd been hurting quite a bit for an hour or so now. "Shit."

"What's wrong? Did I do something to upset you?" Tulia asked worriedly.

"No, I'm having contractions. It's time," Lenore informed the mouse.

"Oh!" the girl squeaked. "We'll need the bag." Tulia hurried over to the wardrobe and pulled out the small bag that Lenore had packed for her hospital stay. "Okay, bag to the car…wait, the car's not here! Master Erik took it to work! What'll we do? The horses! Yes, we'll ride to the hospital…no, you can't ride in your condition. Agh! What do I do?" Tulia promptly dropped the bag and ran out of the room, screaming for help.

Moments later, Veleno appeared in the doorway, dragging a whimpering, trembling Tulia behind him. "Calm yourself, mouse," he instructed. "There is no need for panic. Help your lady into bed. I'll have Gordon contact Madam Johannson and have her inform the Master to return immediately."

Veleno went off to give Gordon his instructions while Tulia squeaked about frightening spiders large enough to eat a poor little mouse and helping Lenore to lie down in bed in a comfortable position. Or as comfortable as Lenore could get anyway.

"Gordon is calling the Opera House as we speak," Veleno assured Lenore from the doorway when he returned. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, I think Tulia's managing," Lenore replied. Though that wasn't exactly true. Tulia kept scurrying back and forth, pausing every now and then to look around frantically before resuming her worried scampering.

Veleno muttered something under his voice about mice before taking a step into the room. "Mouse! Pull yourself together or I'll string you up for a midnight snack," he threatened.

Tulia froze in her tracks, a squeak escaping her throat as she stared at him in pure terror. Veleno merely spun a small web sturdy enough to support his weight and perched there, making certain that Tulia would be fully aware that he was present to fulfill his threat should she start to break down into a panic again.

They waited for a few brief moments in silence before Gordon came running into the room. "The phones aren't working, my Lady," Gordon wailed, looking absolutely distraught. "The storm…"

Tulia squeaked, twitching in her desire to begin her frantic scurrying once again, but too intimidated by Veleno to actually do so.

"Send a stable hand out on the fastest horse now," Veleno commanded, taking charge of the situation. "If he rides hard, he can reach the Opera House in an hour and a half. Mouse, we'll need two towels." He paused as the two hurried to do his bidding. "May I approach you?" he asked Lenore, knowing she preferred him to keep his distance.

"I suppose," she granted.

Veleno walked to the bedside and gave her a worried look. "How long have you been having these contractions?"

"I'm not quite sure," Lenore replied, grimacing as a particularly painful one came along. When it passed, she told everything that she thought might be helpful. "I had a back ache this morning that hurt rather badly around three this afternoon, but"-

"Three o'clock? You've been in labor for five hours already, butterfly. And your husband was home at that time, we could've had you to a hospital," Veleno muttered.

"Nonsense," Lenore argued. "Back aches are symptoms that it's coming."

"But you felt contractions shortly after the back ache was at its most painful, did you not?"

"I thought they were Braxton Hicks," Lenore defended herself.

"And we let Erik go off to the Opera House while you're having contractions."

"I didn't want him to worry and rush me to the hospital for Braxton Hicks," Lenore explained. "Not to mention the amount of his fussy overprotectiveness I would have had to deal with. I honestly didn't realize this was the real thing, okay?"

"As you say," Veleno replied, shaking his head. "I'm going to touch you." Without an explanation, Veleno quickly rid her of her pants and underwear, then glanced between her legs. "Almost eight already. Bit unusual, but I've heard exercising during the first trimester can speed this process up."

"Why are"- She cut off as a contraction more painful than the last seized her. When it ended about a minute later, she tried again. "Why are you using a worried tone?"

"Because in two hours, you'll be pushing out the first one. And fifteen minutes after you start pushing, Erik will return. Which means you're having the babies here, the natural way. No pain relievers," Veleno explained sympathetically.

* * *

"And keep your hood up," the stable master instructed Leveret. Leveret nodded, his bunny ears flapping. He yanked his hood up to cover his ears and mounted the horse the other stable hands had saddled. The stable master gave the horse a good smack on the rear at the same moment Leveret dug his heels into the horse's sides, and Leveret shot out into the dark, stormy night.

Rain stung his face as he rode, urging the horse to go faster than it was actually capable of. Lightning lit up the earth for a brief moment, showing the twisting trees lining the road and the carpet of dead leaves that were slick with rain. Hopefully the horse didn't slip and break a leg, or Leveret would have to run the rest of the way, and he couldn't run as fast as the horse.

Every moment sped by, and dragged on at the same time. He knew every moment was precious; the faster he got to his Master, the sooner the Lady would be able to receive help. Though he knew he was getting closer to his destination with each passing moment, he felt as if he would never reach the Opera House.

Another flash of lightning revealed the scenery to Leveret's eyes once again, and he barely had time to see the fallen branch before the horse leapt over it. When the horse landed, continuing at it's deadly pace, Leveret slipped, falling off the horse.

A firm grip on the reins was the only thing that spared him from losing the horse, which dragged him a good thirty feet through mud and dead leaves before it slowed, then stopped. Leveret didn't waste time getting to his feet; he sprang onto the horse's back from his horizontal position on the road. There were certain advantages to being a rabbit, after all.

He jerked the hood of his cloak up with one hand while the other kept its death grip on the reins. His heels dug into the horse's flanks and the breakneck ride resumed. Gobs of mud slid around his neck and down his back, having been caught in the hood when he was dragged and now released as his hood was pulled back into its proper place.

When Leveret entered the city of Paris, people shouted curses at him as they dove off the sidewalks to make way for the galloping horse. Police officers began chasing him, demanding that he stop immediately and explain himself, but Leveret urged the horse on faster. He received quite a fright when the horse bolted across the street at a red light; the light was green at that particular moment, and a horde of cars slammed on their breaks, tires squealing as they swerved to avoid a collision.

Finally, the steps of the Paris Opera House were in sight. He began tugging on the reins to slow the horse, but he knew it would not stop until it had passed the stairs. So as the stairs were flying by, Leveret leapt off the horse, landing on the marble stairs with a painful thud.

Pushing himself to his feet, he dashed up the stairs, noting some policemen were still in pursuit. He checked to make sure his hood was still up just before he pushed open the doors, stumbling into the entrance hall and dripping mud and leaves on the white marble. The show had just ended, and people were flooding the area, gasping and exclaiming in surprise when they caught sight of him.

Leveret was only eleven human years old, and covered in mud and dead leaves, so naturally he drew everyone's attention. Staring at the sea of faces, Leveret suddenly realized with terrible fear that he didn't know what this Madam Johannson looked like. How was he to find her in this crowd?

Just then, the door opened behind him and a police officer clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Let me go!" Leveret screamed, one hand immediately flying up to hold his hood securely in place while he squirmed about. "I have to speak with Madam Johannson!"

A woman in her forties pushed through the crowd, looking over the mud-spattered rabbit with curious eyes. "You heard him; he wants to talk to me," she said to the police officer. "Let go of him."

"But ma'am, this hooligan"- the officer began.

"Did he cause any damages?"

"Well, no, but we almost had an accident at the intersection of"-

"Look, I'll take responsibility for any inconveniences he may have caused, now let the boy go," Madam Johannson snapped. "Clearly this is an urgent matter."

Leveret wrenched his shoulder from the officer's grip, hurrying over to the woman. She instructed the two gentlemen closest to her to handle the crowd as Leveret turned back to the officer and stuck his tongue out at the man. Served the brute right for trying to stop Leveret from delivering his message.

Madam Johannson pushed him towards a hallway and they hurried into a side room. "Who are you and what in the world is this all about?" she inquired when the door was locked behind her.

"I've got a message for Master Erik," Leveret panted, thoroughly exhausted by his ride and glad that his errand was over. He yanked his hood down; it was too hot with it on. "Madam Lenore is having her babies."

"What?" his Master's voice hissed as the man stepped out of the wall. "Why didn't she merely call the Opera House? She should know better than to"-

"The phones were down," Leveret explained, hoping he wouldn't get in trouble for interrupting his Master. "They put me on Westwind and told me to ride as fast as I could." Leveret sneezed, and his ears flapped about wildly.

"Poor bunny," Madam Johannson murmured. "Erik, get going. Pull your hood back up, boy. Don't keep Erik waiting."

"I have to ride Westwind back," Leveret protested. He couldn't leave one of the horses out there in the city.

"You're in no condition to ride. Not in this weather. You'd catch your death," Madam Johannson argued. "But if you insist on riding…We'll find the horse, put it in the stables here, and you'll spend the night at my place before riding back in the morning."

* * *

"Leave it, Gordon!" Erik snarled. The dog was chasing him up the stairs, trying to take his cloak and hat. "I'll be going out again in a few minutes."

"But sir," Gordon protested, still struggling to wrench the cloak away from Erik.

Erik merely dragged the House Manager along; he didn't have time to waste arguing with Gordon, who was just doing what he believed his duty was.

The sight in the master bedroom was something to behold. Tulia and Veleno were at the end of the bed, where Lenore lay covered in sweat, her face pale and drawn. Two towels had been tied to the rungs of the headboard and she gripped them with white knuckles.

"Push, woman!" Veleno shouted at her.

"I'm. Trying," Lenore said through gritted teeth.

Tulia squeaked worriedly, more towels in hand. Another mouse was waiting next to a table where a basin of warm water was sitting.

Erik was thoroughly puzzled. Lenore couldn't possibly be that far along yet. Even calculating the amount of time it took Leveret to reach the Opera House and Erik to drive home, they should still have enough time to get to the hospital before things got serious. The first thing Erik managed to say was probably the worst thing a man ever said in a room where a woman was giving birth.

"What do you think you're doing; you can't have the babies until we get to the hospital!"

"The babies aren't going to wait," Veleno responded testily. "She's been in labor since around three o'clock."

"Three? Why didn't you tell me, Lenore? You sent me off to work while you're having my children!" he shouted, storming over to glare at her.

"She thought they were Braxton Hicks," Tulia explained, her voice soft and shy.

"Keep your temper, father," Veleno instructed. "Mommy and the babies need support and encouragement right now. I know you're worried that something's going to go terribly wrong now, but all you can do is leave it to Fate and give your wife encouragement."

Erik realized the blasted demon was entirely right. Losing his temper and panicking that this would be detrimental to his family was not exactly the best way to handle things right now. It didn't matter that they weren't following the plan and sitting in the hospital right now.

Lenore's grip tightened on the towels and her face contorted with pain as she gave another push. Gordon had finally managed to catch up with Erik and was already rushing away with the cloak and hat as Erik stood by the bed and pried Lenore's left hand off the towel she was holding. Her fingers automatically clenched around his hand. Her grip was so tight that her wedding ring cut into his flesh, drawing blood. He would remove the ring when the pain lessened long enough for her to loosen her grasp.

After a few moments, her hand relaxed in his and he quickly slid the ring off her finger. He deposited the ring on the bedside table, then used his free hand to stroke her forehead. "Is there anything I can do?" he inquired of his wife.

"Other than be here two hours ago?" she teased lightly. "Sing to us. I think the first thing the kids should hear is music."

* * *

Veleno was quite glad he was used to taking charge in emergencies. (Oh, the countless number of times Raghnall had left something on the burner in his laboratory and Veleno had found the place on fire with the demons Raghnall had been studying in a panic!) He was also pleased that he'd assisted Raghnall when that cow demon had given birth. Granted, it wasn't quite the same with a human, but it was somewhat similar.

And of course, having six hands made this all the easier. With one more push, Lenore's body expelled the first child. Two of his six hands caught the child while a third cut the cord.

"There's your Sonata," Veleno commented as he passed the girl to Tulia to be cleaned off and wrapped up. "One of you mice write down the time."

He immediately turned his attentions back to the woman in labor. Erik's presence seemed to make a difference in how much pain she was experiencing. Which meant she had stopped screaming at Veleno that this hurt too much and she couldn't do it, so just find a knife and cut her open already.

When Lenore had a moment to breathe, she wasted her breath on talking. "Why isn't she crying? Is something wrong with her?" Lenore gasped.

"She's not the one you have to worry about now," Veleno informed her. "Thomas needs your full attention at this moment."

"But"- She cut off as her body decided she needed to start pushing again.

Veleno knew the child was alive when it was in his hands; if it had died in the few moments since, there was nothing to be done about it. The boy still inside her was the most important. Especially since his sister had come out head first; he was going to be feet first. It had to do with the space inside and other such things that Raghnall had seemed entirely fascinated by, and Veleno had ignored the lecture. (He'd been busy trying to keep Raghnall from knocking over that beaker full of acid.)

Veleno saw Erik's eyes keep flitting between his wife and his daughter. He wanted to go check on his daughter, make sure she was alive and well, but he knew he couldn't desert Lenore at this moment.

Twenty minutes later, Lenore was gripping the towel and Erik's hand as if her life depended on it while pushing with every ounce of strength in her body. All that was left was to get Thomas's head out. Releasing an ear-piercing shriek, Lenore accomplished her goal. Veleno deftly snipped the cord with the scissors and passed the boy to Tulia (the other mouse was holding Sonata).

"Why hasn't she cried yet?" Lenore asked, her body relaxing with the exception of her grip on Erik's hand. "And why isn't Thomas crying? What's wrong?"

"I don't know," the mouse holding Sonata replied. "She's awake; she won't stop staring at me."

"Oh God, I thought this was over," Lenore moaned as she felt another contraction.

"Don't worry, this is normal," Veleno informed her as he made a mental note that Thomas had been born on October 23rd, at four minutes after twelve in the morning.

"No, I wanna be done," she whined.

"Just another half hour, butterfly," Veleno responded. It could take that long, but it was very unlikely that it would. Best to prepare her for the worst though.

* * *

Erik fidgeted nervously beside her. He wanted to go look at the babies, make sure neither of them had his deformity. He hadn't trusted those ultrasounds; there was a chance that the deformity wouldn't show up on those scans at all. But Lenore wouldn't let go of his hand, so he had to wait until she did.

"Chérie, surely you don't need me now," Erik ventured tentatively. The babies were out and even though Veleno said there was more to do, it couldn't possibly be painful compared to what she'd just been through.

"If I'm not done, you're not done," she responded. "Look, twelve minutes out of thirty have passed. We're almost halfway done. Just be patient. You're not doing any of the work anyway, so I don't know why you're complaining."

Five minutes later, Lenore let out a deep breath. "I think I'm done," she sighed.

"Yes, you are. I know, I know, I said thirty minutes. It usually lasts somewhere between ten and twenty minutes, but it's possible to last for thirty, so I thought I'd best prepare you for thirty, just in case," Veleno said as he headed for the bathroom to clean himself off.

Lenore finally let go of his hand, and just as Erik was about to jump up and rush to his children, Tulia and the other girl were suddenly right beside him, laying Thomas on Lenore's stomach and putting Sonata in his arms. To his relief, both children had perfect faces. If this was the last blessing he ever received throughout eternity, it would be enough.

The twins had inherited his dark hair, judging by the few tiny strands they had on their heads. As Erik tried to compare both of them, seeing if he could figure out whose ears they had and that sort of thing, he noticed an odd little peculiarity. They both stared at him with golden eyes. Stared at him with a consciousness that newborns should not possess. It was as if they knew who he was already, and were trying to memorize his face.

"Where did you two get your eyes?" he asked them softly. At hearing his voice, they both smiled. And then he understood. They had been trying to figure out who he was, but seeing him had not helped them. But he had sung to them (and Lenore) many nights for the last few months whenever Lenore couldn't seem to fall asleep. They now recognized him, and knew to associate his face with his voice.

"What color are the eyes?" Veleno inquired from the bathroom, having heard Erik's comment.

"A sort of golden hue," Erik replied.

"Oh, that's just Satan's mark, kind of his way of showing that he had a hand in it," Veleno informed Erik.

"My babies?" Lenore murmured worriedly, already half asleep. But hearing the name 'Satan' used in a sentence that had to do with her children clearly (and appropriately) concerned her.

"They're fine, chérie," Erik assured her.

"Oh, good. Think I'll get some sleep then," she yawned.

* * *

Bishop jumped up onto the bed, Fishy in his mouth. He set his friend down next to Lenore, peering at the little bundle on her stomach. Erik was holding the other kitten, it seemed. Bishop wanted a closer look, so he poked his nose into the small opening on the fur wrapped around the one kitten.

The kitten smelled…different. Not what Bishop had expected it to smell like, anyway. He decided he might scare it if he kept poking around and didn't say anything, so he greeted it with a soft hello.

Both kittens wriggled around until they managed to catch sight of him with golden eyes. It was nice to see that, even if they didn't look like proper kittens (no tails or fur or whiskers), they had proper eye color. He hoped that now they were out, they would start talking back to him. He'd been talking to them for months, but they never responded from inside Lenore.

But it seemed they were not ready to respond yet, for they merely stared at him for a few moments before turning their gazes elsewhere. Perhaps it was too early for them to speak yet. But they'd taken so long to be born, he was sure they'd be able to talk right away.

No matter. Picking up Fishy, he crawled up onto Lenore's stomach and settled next to the male kitten, determined to watch over these new friends who seemed almost as helpless as Fishy was.

* * *

"What is it?" Lenore mumbled, dragging herself back from dreams. There was this noise. She couldn't quite figure out what it was, she was so exhausted. All she knew was it sounded like some music she hadn't heard before and it was waking her up.

"I think the twins are hungry," Erik's voice informed her.

Opening her eyes, Lenore found Erik sitting in the bed next to her, cradling both infants in his arms. The babies weren't crying in the actual sense of the word, they were merely making that strange musical noise she had heard. Her breasts began to ache with a desire to hold them close.

Lenore discarded her shirt and took the children, handling them awkwardly for a few moments as she figure out how to feed both of them at once. As they fed, she explained that odd ache that their cry had inflicted upon her.

"They've inherited my ability to manipulate with the voice," Erik guessed. "In some ways, it'll be very helpful; we'll always know exactly what they want."

"So you could kinda tell from their cry that they were hungry?" Lenore asked.

"Just a vague sense of it. It didn't really affect me, because it's not intended to. They know I'm incapable of feeding them, so they focused their manipulation on you, only giving me a vague sense of what they wanted in case you weren't close enough to hear them," Erik explained.

"Oh great, my kids are creepily smart," Lenore muttered.

Ten minutes into the feeding, Sonata pulled away and looked up at Lenore, staring at her with golden eyes.

"Say something to her," Erik suggested.

Lenore looked at the little girl. _What do I say to my oddly intelligent newborn daughter?_ She ended up saying the first thing that came to mind. "You woke me up just for ten minutes? Your brother's still going at it, are you sure you don't want more?"

Sonata merely smiled before snuggling into Lenore's arm and closing her eyes.

"She wanted to connect a face to your voice. But they need to hear you speak while looking at you so that they know they've got the right face with the right voice," Erik said.

"Do newborns usually smile?" Lenore inquired.

"I don't know," Erik shrugged. "We'll have to ask when we take them in for their first appointment."

Erik took Sonata back after a few minutes so that Lenore could shift Thomas into a more comfortable position. That was when Lenore noticed the cradles sitting close to the bed.

"What's the point in a nursery if they're going to sleep in here?" she said, more to herself than to Erik.

"I thought they should be close. Just until they've had their first check up and we know that they're both alright. What if one of them has some sort of disease or something? It's easier to monitor them if they're right here," Erik replied.

"Whatever you say, Erik," Lenore responded. She knew if he wanted them in the room, the babies would be in that room no matter what she said.

Bishop had been sitting at the end of the bed, watching her feed the twins. Now that Sonata was back in her father's arms, though, Bishop walked up to her and rubbed against the side of her that was not occupied by a feeding infant. Purring contentedly, he plopped down between Lenore and Erik, flicking his tail placidly and occasionally glancing at the twins as if to be sure they were alright.

When Erik rose a few moments later to place Sonata in her cradle, Bishop sprung up and followed him, mewing frantically as if he didn't trust Erik not to drop the baby. Erik ignored the cat, gently placing his daughter in her bed and covering her with the adorable blankets Lenore had selected. (The blankets in Sonata's crib were white with pink bunnies and Thomas's were white with blue dinosaurs.) Bishop immediately jumped into the cradle with her, as if he didn't want her to be left alone unsupervised.

"Your cat is obsessed with our children," Erik informed Lenore. "He keeps as close to them as possible. While you were sleeping, I put them in the cradles and he napped with Thomas after leaving his fish with Sonata."

"Erik, you can't let Bishop sleep in the cradle with her, he might accidentally smother her!" Lenore gasped in panic.

"Please, chérie. He's too intelligent for that. And if he wasn't, all it would take would be a simple little rearrangement of a bit of his brain," Erik responded casually.

"Oh…I guess it's okay then," Lenore said, hoping Erik was right.

Thomas finished eating about an hour after he'd started, then gave his mother the same look his sister had. After Lenore commented on how long he'd been eating compared to his sister, he too smiled and settled down for a nap. Erik took him and put him in his cradle.

Bishop's head popped up out of Sonata's cradle, looking at the end of the bed where his fish was sitting. He jumped out long enough to pick up his fish and drop it into Thomas's cradle before returning to Sonata.

"So, is it your turn now?" Lenore teased Erik.

He quirked an eyebrow at her.

"What? Some husbands like the taste of breast milk," Lenore said with a shrug. "Just thought I'd offer. But if you're not interested, I'll just go back to sleep." Erik said nothing, so Lenore snuggled into the mattress and closed her eyes, blissfully returning to sleep.

* * *

"You're curious about her," Satan's voice chuckled from the shadows.

Erik glared suspiciously in Satan's direction. It was true; he was curious about Sonata. Dr. Durand had said the girl would be born with a disease called Turner's Syndrome. The woman had explained what a baby born with Turner's would look like, but Sonata seemed perfect. Which defied logic, due to her missing X chromosome.

"I want things to go well for you," Satan said, approaching the cradle and looking in at the girl. "It took a bit of work, but I managed to ensure she'd be born completely healthy. After all, this is the first time an immortal's had children. We wanted them both to be perfect. As perfect as children conceived in sin can be anyway."

"So what you're saying is that my daughter doesn't have Turner's syndrome as she's supposed to?" Erik inquired, standing on the side of Sonata's cradle opposite of Lucifer.

"Naturally," Satan shrugged casually.

"How?" It was all Erik could think of to say. Altering her genetics by adding an X chromosome would change things. She would no longer be Thomas' identical twin if that were the case. Not by medical definition anyway.

"Similar to the way I packaged Lenore for you. Just alter a few things. Although instead of creating imperfections, in Sonata's case I corrected imperfections," Belial informed Erik, reaching into the cradle and stroking the top of Sonata's head affectionately. "She's sweet. But make sure you keep a close eye on her; she'll get her hands into everything."

"Dare I ask why you're telling me this?" Erik sighed.

"Probably not," Satan grinned. "Just make sure you keep things out of her reach…" Moving over to the other cradle, the father of lies peered in on Thomas. "Of course, if you don't really care about Thomas, then you don't have to worry about putting things out of Sonata's reach. I'm not saying it would be intentional, it would be an accident, but…"

"If you have no intention of telling me precisely what you're on about, don't bother trying to give subtle hints," Erik snapped.

"Fine. I recommend you keep your rapier locked away. Otherwise, you'll come home from the Opera House about three years from now to find Sonata locked in her room and Lenore holding Thomas's dead body with your bloody rapier laying a few feet away. Sonata won't mean to kill him; they'll have been playing at being pirates," Satan explained.

Erik immediately walked over to the closet, located his sword, and set it aside to have Gordon lock it up tomorrow morning.

"You know, I fixed Thomas up too," Satan commented. "Since Sonata drops the extra X chromosome, which would have given her Turner's syndrome, Thomas would drop the extra Y, leaving him unable to mature sexually as well. I hope you appreciate all the trouble I'm going to just so you can have normal children."

"Normal?" Erik replied, quirking an eyebrow. "Do you have any idea how normal my children won't be? They'll be considered a medical marvel; I'll have thousands of doctors and scientists begging to study them. Reporters will be constantly requesting interviews and updates on their lives. That's far from normal for any child."

"But at least they'll mature properly," Satan tried to point out.

"Which is exactly the problem. Medically, they're supposed to be incapable of that," Erik snapped, making sure to keep his voice down so as not to wake Lenore. "Not to mention their abnormal eye color, another little 'blessing' you've provided."

"I just wanted to leave a bit of a mark, that's all. A little something from their grandfather," Satan pouted.

"You have no biological relation to these children whatsoever," Erik snarled.

"But if I hadn't stepped in, they wouldn't even exist," Satan responded darkly. "If you can't be properly appreciative of that, I'll take them with me and raise them myself."

"Take them and I will kill you," Erik threatened. It was a very powerful threat, as Erik had managed to remove an archangel's wing when Satan himself had never accomplished such a feat.

"If you won't let me call myself their grandfather, at least grant me uncle. Uncle Arron. After all, we can't use Lucifer. They'd confuse me with Lucas. You know all the immortals will be stopping by within the next few years to meet the kids," Satan said. "And I'm sure they'll all bring gifts. It could be interesting to see what Lucas brings. He was always such a unique individual."

"I would prefer if none of them dropped by," Erik muttered.

"And not see their niece and nephew?" Satan scoffed. "What kind of uncles would they be if they never even saw the twins?"

"The kind I prefer and Lenore loves," Erik replied.

"Well, regardless, they'll all want to meet these little darlings," Satan responded. "I'd best be going. So many mortals to tempt, so little time. I'll drop by again soon." With that, he disappeared.

* * *

"So, another chapter up, kids are born. Woo!!" Tammy crowed.

"I really wish you'd stop consuming so much caffeine and sugar," Hiroshi muttered, sitting next to the computer and rubbing his eyes tiredly. Tammy hardly seemed to sleep at all, she was so busy reading all those new Phantom books she'd received for Christmas. And he couldn't possibly sleep with the light on. And of course, he couldn't sleep during the day either, due to Tammy's command that he be awake whenever she was.

"This chapter woulda been up sooner, but my internet wasn't working yesterday," Tammy grumbled, ignoring Hiroshi's words entirely. "And Drache wrote that Christmas thing, which was priceless. I less than three it! I can't wait for Drache to get the prequel online!"

"Do leave reviews," Hiroshi reminded the readers. "More than likely, she'll get your review almost immediately, due to the fact that the woman never wants to sleep."

"I dunno what you're complaining about. It's not like lack of sleep can kill you, you're immortal," Tammy pointed out. "And these new books of mine have good stories in them! I almost cried during part of Deception. And I'm really liking Into the Light."

"Please cease babbling about your books, creampuff, I hear enough about them as it is without you speaking of them in the review reminder."

Tammy leaned over and promptly electrocuted Hiroshi with her shocky spork.


	46. Chapter 46

Lady Taevyn: Lol, I'd like to point out in your review that you mentioned doctors looking to further their careers…perhaps you shouldn't speak of chapter contents before said chapter is posted, lol.

Lethia: Well I don't know why reviewing made it go ka-poof…silly site. Anyways, I'm glad we have so many people liking bishop and fishy so very much.

MJ MOD: Thomas was hiding Sonata from sight because, as we'll see when the kids get a bit older, he's very protective of his sister. Yes, the babies are going to be weird. They're Erik's kids after all. Yeah, Bishop is cute. I less than three Bishop. About my Phantom books: Firstly, Deception. Overall, a very good book, wonderful love story there. Second, Into the Light. Another good story. It's a rather thick book, but the chapters are short, and the print is somewhat larger than most books, so it goes pretty quickly. I especially adored the ending. Third, Darkness Brings the Dawn. This third book is based on Gerard Butler's portrayal of Erik, and while it was a fantastic story that never got boring, it was loaded with grammar and spelling errors. So if you don't mind poor spelling and grammar, fine and well. If you absolutely can't stand bad grammar and clearly incorrect spelling, I wouldn't recommend reading it. But if you can tolerate the mistakes, read it.

Artzee: The last chapter was up for quite a while before people started reviewing, but that's cuz fanfic email alerts weren't working…(mutters a severe string of profanities at the incompetence that fanfic displays sometimes) Anyways, I can't wait till you can get to the scanner and send me your pics. Also, you're right, babies can't smile until they're a month old. But, these are special children. We have to keep in mind that these are Erik's kids, and I'm using Susan Kay's Phantom for his background, so…

Black Hole Phoenix: I will rabbit with the story as much as college will allow. Also, I wouldn't growl menacingly at Satan if I were you. He might jam his stiletto heel through your throat…

Jadesy: Don't you dare steal Hiroshi. (brandishes the shocky spork menacingly) Sorry this chapter took awhile to get out, but I couldn't write for a while. My computer tried to crash on me. Thankfully, only my main hard drive containing windows was affected. The second hard drive where I keep this story (and all my pics and music and such) was untouched.

Der Drache Dame: Yeah, it's so utterly cute that Bishop thinks the babies are hairless kittens. And…yay! You finally got the prequel up!!!

Precious: The Precious is caught up! Finally! No, no bunny midwife. Erik may have wanted to use a midwife, but Lenore was determined to have the drugs at her disposal for childbirth, as well as doctors on hand in case something was wrong with the babies. And yeah, I'm done the books I got, lol.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"Five more minutes?" Lenore begged sleepily when Erik shook her awake that morning.

"No, we should take the twins in," Erik replied. "We need to have them looked over, and we'll need their birth certificates filled out."

"Can you go without me?"

"I can't feed our children, chérie."

"You could just buy some formula and mix it up," Lenore suggested.

"I already told you that formula isn't as beneficial to them as your milk," Erik replied with a sigh.

"But I'm tired, and I look like Hell from giving birth last night," Lenore complained.

"It would seem Hell became much more beautiful then the last time I saw it, if that's the case," Erik remarked. "I know you're tired, ma petite, but this must be done."

"Can I sleep in the car on the way?"

"I won't keep you awake, if that's what you're asking."

"Okay, I'll get some clothes on," Lenore mumbled, dragging herself out of bed. She found an outfit already placed on a chair a few feet from the bed. "Oh, how sweet of you to get my clothes for me! This saves me about twenty steps."

Erik nodded absently, in the process of putting Sonata in one of the sleepers they had purchased. Lenore noted that it was the hunter green sleeper with a pattern of bears. She had particularly avoided buying a lot of pinks and blues, as she didn't want to dress her babies in the stereotypical colors. She saw the dark red sleeper with the black puppies laid out for Thomas.

Ten minutes later, the twins were strapped into their car seats in the back of the vehicle. Lenore was sitting between them (Erik insisted she sit back there with them in case they woke up and wanted attention) and a diaper bag was sitting in the front passenger seat. She was just drifting off to sleep when Thomas opened his eyes and demanded food with that manipulative voice of his.

"You ate for an hour at three this morning," Lenore grumbled as she went through the process of unstrapping him. "Surely you can't be hungry again yet. It should be your sister complaining." Thomas's golden eyes seemed to contain a look of amusement. "You kids are way too smart…" she murmured as she bared a breast and let her son go at it.

Thomas fed for the entire ride to the hospital, which was an hour long trip. Lenore was rather put out that she didn't get a moment to rest at all, but there wasn't much she could do about it.

And then it began. Thousands of questions were being thrown at her while nurses got blood samples and took other tests to make sure everything was alright with her after having given birth in her home without a midwife present.

Lenore could hardly answer the questions posed, though. Sonata and Thomas were fiercely protesting being prodded at by strangers, having blood samples taken, and the like. Using their manipulative abilities, they were trying desperately to get her to intervene. It seemed Erik was suffering from their cries more than she was, for he was visibly shaking from the effort of restraining himself and letting the doctors do what needed to be done.

* * *

"What's taking so long?" Lenore muttered worriedly. "It's been almost two hours now."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Erik tried to reassure her.

"I want my babies back," she replied.

They were currently sitting in a waiting room while the babies had been taken for more examinations and tests. Erik had granted the doctors permission to perform the tests, just to ensure that both children were as perfect as Satan claimed. He would have let Lenore go with them, but when Sonata had shrieked at being separated from her mother, Lenore had snatched the girl back and punched the nurse who'd taken Sonata. Erik would have left Lenore here to wait and gone with them, but he knew Lenore would have murdered anyone in her path to get to her babies unless he stopped her. So he had to wait here with her, forcibly holding her on the couch next to him.

"She didn't want those people to take her," Lenore whimpered, close to tears. "She didn't want them to hold her. She needs me, Erik. She's probably scared half to death back there with those doctors."

"Thomas is with her, she'll be fine," Erik replied consolingly, stroking Lenore's hair as he hugged her close.

"He wasn't happy. He didn't protest like Sonata did, but he didn't want to go either," Lenore complained.

"They'll be alright," Erik said comfortingly.

"No they won't. They'll think we've abandoned them!" Lenore wailed. "I want my babies back, and I want them now!"

Just then a doctor came out into the waiting room, hurrying over to the two of them. "Monsieur Dessler, Madam Dessler, we were wondering if we could perhaps keep your children overnight for observation," the doctor said. His eyes were excited at the prospect.

"Why? Is there something wrong with them?" Lenore inquired.

"Not at all. That's the astounding thing. Your daughter should have Turner's syndrome, but she doesn't. The results of her blood test confirm she has two perfect X chromosomes. And your son has the Y chromosome that he should have dropped. And except for the gender, their genetics are perfectly identical. This is the only case of identical boy/girl twins without the children having dropped a chromosome," the doctor explained. "As far as the medical career is concerned, your children are an impossibility that has somehow miraculously happened. And their eye color is…No one has that color naturally, all newborns have blue eyes as you know. They also seemed to have a greater sense of sight than is common, and they're extremely vocally advanced for newborns. You also said you've seen them smile; infants don't start smiling until they're about a month old. We've never seen anything like this, and we'd be so grateful if you gave us an opportunity to observe these phenomena and see if we can't figure out how it happened."

Lenore slapped the doctor before Erik could stop her. "You're not going to study my babies like lab rats!" she snarled.

"Madam Dessler, please be reasonable," the doctor begged, ignoring the fact that she had struck him. "Your daughter may provide a cure for Turner's syndrome, if you just give us a chance to run some more tests."

"My children are not subjects for study," Lenore snapped. "They're innocent babies who are frightened half to death at having strangers running all these tests on them!"

"Please Madam! These children could provide all sorts of breakthroughs in the medical and scientific fields," the doctor tried to persuade her. "They are invaluable to science. Learning more about your children could bring about so many benefits! We might find a way for mothers to give birth to more advanced infants. If your children can see and smile as they do now, surely they'll prove to be child prodigies, Madam. This could lead to having infants learning to walk and talk at earlier ages, they could be educated sooner"-

"What part of 'no' don't you understand?" Lenore shouted, gaining the attention of the few other people sitting around the waiting room who had previously been engrossed in magazines. "Those are my children, and they're human beings, not animals! Studying them is absolutely out of the question!"

"Monsieur Dessler, surely you"-

"The decision is for my wife to make," Erik replied. When it came down to it, he agreed with Lenore. He didn't want his children being gawked at or cut open in the name of science.

"Take a few moments to think about what you're doing," the doctor pleaded. "Your daughter is miraculously healthy. By everything science tells us, that's entirely impossible. She should have Turner's and doesn't! Think about it, Madam Dessler. If your daughter could give us a cure for Turner's syndrome, what right do you have to keep it from humanity? So many girls suffer from Turner's syndrome, but we could put a stop to it if you just give us a chance to examine your daughter in greater detail."

"If you don't stop pestering me and begging to study my children, I'll put you in the emergency room," Lenore threatened. "Now bring me my babies so we can go home or you'll meet Saint Peter tonight, so help me God."

The doctor trudged back from whence he came, looking thoroughly depressed over Lenore's refusal. He returned a few moments later, two nurses trailing behind him with the twins. The twins were wailing relentlessly, still crying out for protection. Lenore rushed forward, taking first Sonata and then Thomas, glaring at the nurses as though she expected the nurses had mistreated the infants.

"In case you change your mind," the doctor muttered, handing Erik a business card.

* * *

"The nerve of that doctor!" Lenore growled in the backseat, feeding Sonata while Thomas settled in for a nap.

"I quite agree, chérie," Erik commented while he drove.

"Sonata's not old enough. Maybe in a few years, we'll ask her and see if she wants to undergo that sort of thing. But she's only a newborn infant right now, it would be too psychologically scarring to put her through extensive testing at this age," Lenore reasoned.

"They won't get a cure from her," Erik stated. "Satan told me earlier this morning that he had 'fixed' a few things to make sure both children were perfectly healthy."

"Wait, what? Satan helped our kids?" Lenore exclaimed.

"It seems he had noble intentions for once," Erik mumbled.

"No," Lenore argued. "He doesn't know the meaning of the word noble." She paused for a moment. "There's something in it for him, I assure you."

Once again, Sonata ate for about ten minutes before deciding she was done. This time, however, she did not fall asleep. Instead, she sat in her car seat, eyes wide open and taking in the scenery passing by.

"Erik, I'm going to get some sleep now," Lenore informed him, closing her eyes and shifting a bit to find a more comfortable position.

As Lenore started drifting off, Sonata began to make a myriad of noises, as if she were trying to start a conversation. Erik spoke softly to the child, and Sonata would reply with more noises. Lenore fell asleep listening to the two 'converse' softly.

Lenore awoke when the car stopped, yawning as she stretched. Sonata made a few noises as if asking Lenore if she slept well. "You are gonna be a noisy child, aren't you?" Lenore commented.

* * *

"Master Erik, you have a visitor," Gordon whispered to Erik the moment he stepped in the door, obviously not wanting Lenore to hear. "It's Master Khaldun."

Erik groaned inwardly. Khaldun was the second oldest immortal of the Condemned Circle. He'd only ever seen Khaldun a few times, and the man seemed to hate just about anything that wasn't connected to the realm of Hell. _Then again, the twins have been touched by Satan. I doubt he'll hate them._

"Where is he?" Erik sighed.

"The parlour, Master," Gordon replied, looking worriedly at Lenore to see if she had overheard. Gordon was well aware of Lenore's hatred for the Condemned Circle.

"Chérie, we have a guest in the parlour," Erik informed his wife.

"A guest? We don't have friends. How can we have a guest?" Lenore pointed out.

"A member of the Circle has dropped by to congratulate us and see the twins," Erik explained.

"Tell him to go to Hell," Lenore growled. "I'm not letting any of those bastards in that Circle touch my babies."

"We'll both be present to make sure nothing happens," Erik reasoned. "It's best if we just let them see the twins when they wish. If we don't, they'll find a way to sneak in and see the children anyway. And if they have to sneak in, they'll find a nasty way to repay us. Let's avoid that, if possible."

"Alright," Lenore conceded. "But he can't see the twins for long, I want to put Sonata down for a nap soon."

Khaldun sat on a sofa in the parlour with a stately elegance. He wore traditional ancient Egyptian garments. Which meant a knee-length kilt and sandals. His head was shaved and covered with tattoos. Heavy eye make up surrounded those large brown orbs, and rings covered his ears and fingers. A box was sitting on the floor at his feet, and Bishop seemed so fascinated with the box that he didn't bother attacking Khaldun.

"How wonderful to see you, Khaldun," Erik lied through his teeth. "I assume you'll be staying for the evening meal?"

"No," Khaldun said flatly. "You know how much I detest the human realm. I merely came by to congratulate you on the birth of your children and give a gift to them."

"It's very nice to meet you too," Lenore muttered softly.

"I have no interest in you, woman, nor do I care even the slightest bit what your impression of me is," Khaldun informed Lenore with brutal honesty. "The only chance you have of ever gaining attention from me is if you insult me, directly or indirectly, or if you mistreat my niece and nephew." He stood, holding out his arms expectantly.

Erik knew from the look Lenore wore that she'd die before handing Sonata over to Khaldun, so Erik handed Thomas over. "If you have no objections, Khaldun, I'll open the gift," he said. It was irritating. He knew enough about the Circle to know that Khaldun was considered Erik's elder by an extremely wide margin and was therefore to be respected accordingly. Even in his own home, Erik would have to ask permission for anything beyond speaking.

"I suppose I have no objections," the immortal said dismissively, too busy holding Thomas to pay Erik much attention.

Erik tried not to be bothered by Khaldun's attitude. He wouldn't have to tolerate the man's presence for very long, so he should be able to keep his temper under control. He crouched down and opened the box Bishop had been staring at, completely spellbound. And immediately understood Bishop's fascination.

An Egyptian Mau poked its head out of the box, looking around curiously. Moments later, the young kitten leapt out of the box. Before it could scamper off, Erik scooped it up and checked its gender. As he had suspected, the cat was a female.

_Well, we'll have to be sure to get this young lady fixed before she goes into heat. The last thing we need around here is kittens._

"Ooo, pretty kitty," Lenore remarked, having come over to look at the cat.

"A purebred Egyptian Mau," Erik informed her. "It seems she's going to be Bishop's new best friend."

"Her name is Sanura," Khaldun told Erik, ignoring Lenore completely and studying Thomas with intense scrutiny. "I assume you will have a coming of age ceremony for these two." It was a statement, not a question. And Erik knew precisely what it meant. Khaldun expected a ceremony when the twins reached fifteen, and he expected to be invited. "Make sure Thomas has received proper training to handle a scimitar."

"When he's old enough," Erik agreed. He really didn't have much choice in the matter now. An elder immortal had all but given him an explicit command to have his son trained.

Khaldun nodded and handed Thomas back to Erik, then deigned to look at Lenore so that she would realize he now wished to hold Sonata.

"Not on your life," Lenore muttered, giving Khaldun a glare.

"Chérie, don't be difficult," Erik advised her. The last thing he needed was to have the Condemned Circle come up here and call Lenore to account for not being respectful to an elder.

_I don't want him holding her. I have a very strong dislike for this bastard,_ Lenore replied telepathically.

_He's over eight thousand years old, ma petite. Khaldun is the second oldest immortal, which means he is to be highly respected. For both our sakes, just let him have his way. He won't be here much longer, surely you can tolerate him for a few more minutes,_ Erik responded.

Flashing Erik a brief look that conveyed her irritation, Lenore handed Sonata over to Khaldun.

"She'll be absolutely lovely when she comes of age," Khaldun said thoughtfully. "I think lapis lazuli, green tourmaline, and cornelian would be perfect for her necklace."

"I'm sure that would be lovely," Erik responded absently. Sanura was currently perusing the draperies for climbability. Bishop was trying to get Sanura's attention by rubbing up against her, but she seemed to find the curtains more interesting than Bishop.

"Well, I look forward to seeing the two again in fifteen years," Khaldun finally announced. His tone implicated that he would like nothing more than to stay in Hell rather than be bothered to come to Earth for their coming of age; Erik knew the man would only come because his presence would be expected. Khaldun handed Sonata back to Lenore and promptly disappeared without so much as a 'farewell'.

* * *

"There's got to be a way to keep those annoying bastards out of our house," Lenore grumbled the moment Khaldun was gone.

"Well, there is a way to keep immortals out, but I would prefer being allowed in my own home," Erik responded.

"Why did you have to be immortal?" Lenore complained, not really trying to be rude. She was just so annoyed at Khaldun. She didn't even want to contemplate seeing the rest of his 'family' in her home.

"If I wasn't immortal, ma petite, you would've died at the age of eighteen in a car crash," Erik pointed out.

"Well, being dead's a bit better than being plagued by the Condemned Circle," Lenore muttered.

Erik took his eyes off of Sanura to look at her. His blue orbs emanated such icy coldness that Lenore shivered. "Quite a spectacularly cutting insult, Madam," Erik hissed softly. "I just so happen to be a member of that Circle. I apologize; I didn't realize I was plaguing you. If you'd rather be dead, I could certainly arrange it."

"I…you…" Lenore stammered, trying to figure out precisely what it was she intended to say. The murderous look on Erik's face made it impossible to think at all. The only options she could see were to run or else start praying.

Thomas' demand for food at that precise moment drew Lenore's eyes to her son in Erik's arms. Which effectively shattered Erik's intimidating visage. Somehow it was hard to picture a man holding a baby as being capable of murder.

"You're absolutely ridiculous sometimes, Erik," Lenore promptly informed her husband while taking their son from him.

"Ridiculous?" Erik snarled. "You're the one who claimed death would be better than having a member of the Condemned Circle around! And if you lack the brains to remember that your husband happens to be a part of that Circle, and decide to mention such things without even thinking before you speak, then perhaps you are the ridiculous one!"

"It wasn't my idea that you become immortal, thus becoming a member of the Circle. If you ask me, that wasn't exactly a brilliant move," Lenore returned.

Erik seethed silently for a moment, radiating an air of danger once again. "You're a difficult woman," he snapped after a few moments. That said, he turned on his heel and all but stomped out of the room.

"Oh, you're fun to annoy," Lenore chuckled softly when she was sure he was out of hearing. He'd always manage to push her buttons when they lived under the Opera House. But since their marriage, Lenore had begun learning what ticked him off and how to phrase things just so to see his temper boil. It was quite a nice reversal, as far as she was concerned.

Sonata looked at her mother with golden eyes that gave Lenore a sense of disappointment. "Oh, don't look at me like that," Lenore chided. "You haven't known him anywhere near as long as I have. I'm sure when you get to know him better, you'll find it just as amusing as I do."

* * *

Bishop couldn't understand why Sanura was ignoring him. He found her quite interesting. He thought her spots were pretty, but he wasn't sure he should tell her that. It might seem too bold to say such a thing. Finally, Sanura decided to talk to him.

_Can I climb that big piece of cloth on the wall? _Sanura asked curiously.

_No, it would make Erik very mad,_ Bishop informed the younger feline.

_Oh._ She was silent for a while after that, poking her nose around the room and examining everything. When she reached the doorway, she walked right past it as if it didn't exist. After making a full circuit of the room, she jumped up on the sofa and sat down next to where Bishop had perched while waiting for her to finish her inspection.

_Are you too tired to go out and check the rest of the house?_ Bishop inquired with a yawn. Both of the twins looked fine, and they weren't expressing any concern over being held by one of the bad men.

_Khaldun never let me leave the room I lived in before he brought me here. I don't want to go too far, or I'll get in trouble. I know that I'm not supposed to wander._

_What do you mean? We're allowed to go anywhere in the house we want._

_Oh, no, I'm not. I'm a guest. And Khaldun will be angry if he finds out._

_You aren't a guest. You're one of the family now. That evil man left you here to live with us from now on_, Bishop explained.

_Are you sure? What about my brothers and sisters? Won't they be living here too?_

Bishop wasn't sure he knew how to explain to her. He had been the last in his litter to get a family, so he'd come to expect not having his brothers and sisters around. Not that he'd adjusted to his new dwelling very easily. Quite the opposite. He was rather confused that first night with Lenore when he wasn't forced to stay in the cardboard box in the little girl's room. And he'd been frightened half to death when Erik shut him out of the bedroom. He worried that his new family didn't like him and they were leaving him, just as his brothers and sisters had.

_Your brothers and sisters will find their own families,_ Bishop said, hoping that would be of some comfort to the young female.

_But…What'll I do without them? Who will I curl up with when I'm sleepy? Who will play with me? And Mommy! I need Mommy! Who will bathe me?_ _Who will protect me from all the scary things in the world?_

_You can curl up with me,_ Bishop offered. _And we'll play together, with Fishy. Fishy's my friend, you'll like him. You can bathe yourself, you're big enough. And I'll protect you from the scary things. Though there's really not much to be scared of, except when Erik and Lenore get into a fight. That's really the only time to be afraid. I recommend hiding under the bed when that happens._

_Well…I guess I won't miss my siblings too badly. They used to push me away from the food bowl. …Are you sure I can't climb the cloth?

* * *

_

"Thomas is doing splendidly," Dr. Blanc informed Lenore and Erik. "He's gaining weight very well. Sonata, on the other hand, isn't gaining much at all. She's barely getting three and a half ounces per week. Is she having a problem feeding or…?"

"She doesn't seem to want to eat all that often," Lenore explained. "I've tried to get her to eat every time her brother does, but she won't eat unless she wants to. And when she does nurse, it's only for ten minutes or so." This was the first visit with the pediatrician, and Lenore had feared he would comment on Sonata's weight gain (or lack thereof).

"Has she been sleeping a great deal of the time?" Dr. Blanc inquired.

"No, she's awake more than Thomas," Lenore replied.

"Have you given Sonata a pacifier at any time?"

"No, never," Lenore answered.

"Is she easily distracted by things? For example, does she pull away if someone walks into the room, or if something makes a sudden noise?"

"No," Lenore said, feeling like a broken record. "She just isn't interested."

"And she hasn't shown any signs of jaundice," the pediatrician mused. "I don't recall ever hearing of anything like this in a newborn. Quite clearly you have an adequate supply, Thomas is proof of that."

Erik glared at the man, most likely because the doctor had mentioned something to do with Lenore's breasts. _I swear. Erik acts so jealous sometimes, thinking that the doctor is checking me out merely because we discussed my breasts._

"Perhaps it's hereditary," Erik suggested. "I ate very rarely as an infant."

Dr. Blanc let his eyes take in Erik's extremely thin frame and severe disapproval briefly painted his features. "I suggest you try using formula for Sonata," Dr. Blanc said, his eyes turning back to Lenore. "She's clearly not getting enough calories in the ten minutes that she'll feed."

"Is it really a problem?" Erik all but snarled. "Sonata's perfectly happy right now, and we can't force her to eat."

"It is a problem if she doesn't start gaining weight," Dr. Blanc returned.

"Well, I know before I gave birth, I was severely underweight," Lenore mentioned. "I mean, I'm about five foot five, and weighed about one hundred pounds. Medically defined, I was underweight. But there was nothing wrong with me; I just have a very fast metabolism. Could she maybe have the same metabolic rate that I do and that's causing the problem of her not gaining enough?"

"That really shouldn't show until later," Dr. Blanc replied. "If that were the case, we'd start seeing signs of it around three or more years old."

"Like Erik said, I can't force her to eat," Lenore sighed. "I've tried encouraging her to hang on a bit longer, but when she's done, she stops sucking and that's the end of it."

"Madam Dessler, your daughter is underweight," Dr. Blanc said calmly. "This can cause serious problems in her development. From what you've told me, she has no difficulties latching on or transferring the milk. It simply sounds as though she won't nurse long enough to get the right amount of calories. And the only way to make sure she gets the calories she needs is to give her formula."

"It is entirely out of the question," Erik informed the man, giving the doctor a murderous glare. "I will not have my children digesting that artificial garbage when my wife is clearly quite capable of providing sufficient nourishment."

"It's in the interest of your daughter's well being, monsieur," Dr. Blanc pointed out, his voice trembling with instinctive fear caused by Erik's intimidating glower.

"If her mother's milk is better for her, than how is it in her best interest to receive formula?" Erik argued.

"It ensures the child gets enough calories and nutrients," Dr. Blanc said, still sounding a bit afraid of Erik.

"Are there any other options?" Lenore inquired, trying to get the doctor to focus on her instead of Erik. _Stop scaring the man, Erik,_ she commanded him telepathically.

"Well, you can talk to a lactation consultant," Dr. Blanc suggested. "But the problem seems to be that she's not feeding long enough to get the hindmilk."

"Other than Sonata's weight, our children are healthy, correct?" Erik snarled.

"Well, yes, but"-

"Then this appointment is over. Good day, monsieur," Erik said fiercely, leaving no room for argument. He stood, Thomas in his arms, and then dragged Lenore (who held Sonata) to her feet before pushing her towards the door.

"Erik, how dare you!" Lenore hissed the moment they were out of Dr. Blanc's office. "Scaring that poor man like that. And in front of your children, no less!"

"That man is an incompetent fool," Erik replied heatedly as they made their way down the hall to the waiting room.

"He came highly recommended by Kathleen," Lenore protested. "And he's just trying to be helpful, that's all."

"Helpful? How is it helpful to feed our daughter that man-made rubbish?" Erik snapped.

"Do you want to talk with a lactation consultant?" Lenore sighed.

"No. You're not having any problems, and our children are perfectly healthy and happy," Erik responded.

"Are you always going to be like this?" she inquired tiredly.

"Like what?"

"Always thinking you know better than the doctors," Lenore answered as they made their way through the waiting room to the doors.

"If all doctors are as ignorant as this one, then yes," Erik said vehemently.

Erik opened the doors, and Lenore thought she would go blind. Lights flashed all around her, and a crowd of people began to press forward. It took her a moment to realize the people in question were all reporters.

"What's going on?" Lenore muttered softly.

"It seems the media finds our children interesting," Erik whispered to her.

"But how do they know anything about our children?"

"You were rather loud at the hospital, chérie," he reminded her.

"Well damn," she mumbled.

"Please refrain from using such expletives in front of our children," Erik sighed.

"Like they even know what it means," Lenore retorted. It was at that moment she realized the reporters had been throwing questions at the pair of them, and neither had said a word to these annoying journalists and newsmen.

"Madam Dessler, it's said your daughter might hold the key to creating a cure for Turner's Syndrome. If that's so, why would you refuse to let doctors observe her?" one bold reporter questioned.

Just as Lenore was about to yell at the woman that her child wasn't a lab rat for scientists to be conducting experiments on, Erik spoke.

"My wife and I have no comment. We desire to be left in peace." The words were delivered softly, but every person present heard those words. The moment he finished speaking, Erik took Lenore's elbow and began pulling her through the throng of reporters, who immediately began shooting off more questions and taking more pictures (or footage), attempting to get close-ups of the babies. Both Erik and Lenore shifted the children in their arms so that their faces could not be seen.

* * *

"Hey, Uncle Erik's on the news," Olivia commented casually.

Tori looked up from the book she'd been reading. She wasn't quite sure she knew what she was seeing. The reporter at the scene was asking about the niece Tori had yet to meet, saying something about being able to cure Turner's Syndrome.

"My wife and I have no comment. We desire to be left in peace," Erik quietly informed the shameless men and women of the media. Tori knew by his tone that, had he had a Punjab lasso at hand, Erik would've killed the lot of them.

As they made their way through the throng, clutching the children closely and hiding their faces from view, Tori shook her head. What was the world coming to? Didn't the media have any respect for people's privacy anymore? Back when she was young, things had been better. People had respected one another back then. It seemed the world fell into worse states every day.

The anchors of the show began a brief discussion of why a mother wouldn't want to let her daughter be observed if it could produce a cure for Turner's Syndrome, and Tori decided that her book was ten times better than today's news.

* * *

If the twins hadn't been in the car, Erik would have let out a severe string of curses. There were a few reporters who were tailing them to find out where the Dessler family resided.

_Curse those intrusive bastards to Hell._

"They're still following us," Lenore observed, having twisted around to glance out the rear window. "Do you think they'll ever give up?"

Erik neglected to answer her. He'd taken several detours, going in any direction that led away from their house. But he couldn't keep it up forever. It seemed he had little choice but to finally start heading home.

"Chérie, I'm afraid I'll have to resort to my old ways for the next few weeks," Erik muttered.

"Could you be a bit more specific?" Lenore said, quirking an eyebrow.

"I had a few rooms built that you are unaware of," Erik answered evasively.

"I take it these rooms have mirrors, an iron tree, and a noose," Lenore sighed.

"What home is complete without a torture chamber?" Erik teased.

"I'm sure it's some kind of crime to be without one," Lenore replied dryly.

Erik slowed the car as he approached a stop sign, thoroughly dreading turning on the blinker that would indicate the turn that would begin taking them home. The reporters tailing them braked as well, and Erik could swear that he could see the eager gleam in their eyes if he glanced in the rearview mirror. The car came to a complete stop, and Erik looked both ways. He decided to glare at the reflections of the press in his rearview mirror before he made the turn, but found himself staring at what was approaching the reporters' van from behind them rather than glowering at the media.

"Erik, it's clear, you can make your turn," Lenore pointed out, having no idea what was occurring behind them.

"Turn around," Erik instructed her.

"What? Are you nuts? You want me to turn and look at them, as close as they are now?"

"Turn around," Erik repeated.

Lenore sighed as she complied with his command. But the moment she turned her head, all exasperation vanished. "HOLY HELL!" she shrieked. "There's a fucking six-legged horse breathing fire back there!"

Erik watched in the rearview mirror as the rider of the black hell horse guided it into a rather impressive leap, landing the horse on top of the press van. The reporters leapt out of the vehicle, frightened half out of their wits.

"Bandits!" the rider shouted ferociously, drawing a scimitar out from underneath the long, flowing white robe he wore. "Be gone, before I gut you and leave you for the vultures' supper!"

"Get off our van, you lunatic," one of the reporters demanded.

The man on horseback dismounted, standing on top of the van. He glared at the man who'd spoken, the rider's brown eyes being the only part of his face that was visible beneath the white cloth wrapped around his head and the white veil covering his mouth to protect himself from the harsh conditions of the desert.

"Erik, drive on," Lenore whispered in a wavering voice.

"I'm afraid I can't leave a family member to the mercies of the press," Erik replied tiredly. Gershom was the one immortal he had never met, because Gershom wandered the Arabian Desert. It was said that the man never wandered out of the desert because he had been threatened with death should he ever leave the desert his people had exiled him to. Though Erik had never met Gershom, he had been given a full description of the man, and he knew without a doubt this was Gershom, the third oldest immortal, at the age of seven thousand three hundred and forty six.

* * *

"Can you get a new family?" Lenore inquired, shaking her head as this new immortal waved his scimitar around until the reporters ran off into the woods a few feet back down the road.

"As soon as you get a new mother, chérie," Erik retorted.

"Oh, you rotten excuse for a husband," she replied without a speck of sincerity in her voice. "Whatever am I going to do with you?"

"Are you asking for suggestions?" Erik asked, a wicked grin on his face.

"Only if your suggestions will entertain me," Lenore shrugged casually.

"I'm sure I have a few that would be to your liking."

Before Lenore could respond to that, there was a tapping on the window beside Sonata. Lenore closed her eyes and prayed for deliverance from immortals as Erik operated the power windows.

"You must have a great store of water, to have bandits pursuing you," the man exclaimed. "This is a rather odd cart you ride in." He poked the car with his scimitar, and Lenore saw some of the paint chip off.

_Just peachy. An immortal who doesn't know what a car is and ruins the paint job._

"I don't believe I've had the privilege of meeting you before," Erik remarked through gritted teeth, having noticed the chip in the paint and having little patience with those who damaged his property.

"I am far from my homeland," the rider admitted. "God granted me a vision, sending me on a quest to find you, stranger. God shows me favor, despite the exile forced upon me by His people. This is not the place to speak. Let us find water so that we may rest and converse in a more pleasant environment."

"Oh, I think we've conversed enough," Lenore said as sweetly as she could manage. "Why don't you go back to wherever you came from? I mean, you obviously fulfilled your quest, now that you've met us."

"We must ride, before the vultures find us," the man replied, casting a wary look at the sky above before dashing back to his six-legged horse and remounting. "Lead the way, stranger, I am not familiar with this desert."

Erik checked to make sure the roads were clear once again before making the turn. They drove in silence for a few minutes, Lenore constantly turning around to see if the immortal was still following them.

"Who is he?" she finally asked Erik, as it seemed he wasn't going to volunteer the information.

"That's Gershom," Erik grumbled, a look of concern crossing his face. "I've been told that Gershom was exiled to the Arabian Desert by his own people. We don't really know what he was exiled for, but Khaldun found him on the brink of death and decided on a whim to give Gershom immortality. Of course, by that point, Gershom was less than sane. The man doesn't even know he's an immortal."

"Wait, there's an immortal who doesn't know he's immortal?" Lenore said skeptically. "No one could possibly forget dying and being denied access to Heaven."

"He believes that God was sending him a vision of what his fate would be if he failed to live a decent life," Erik sighed. "The man isn't right in the head, chérie. Try to keep that in mind."

"If he's mentally gone with the wind, then why are we leading him to our house?" Lenore griped.

"Because he's family," Erik reminded her.

"It's moments like this when I wonder why I married you," she mumbled, crossing her arms over her chest and slouching down in her seat between the twins.

"Should I take that to mean you have no affections for me?" Erik inquired.

"Affection for you, I have in spades. It's affection for your family that I lack," Lenore answered.

"I suppose I can't blame you for that; I'm not that fond of them myself."

The rest of the drive was rather silent. Sonata stared out the window at the scenery and Thomas slept soundly. Lenore looked at her son and shook her head. He never wanted much attention. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he was simply shutting everyone out of his life for his own protection. _You get that silent, introverted nature from your father, I have no doubt. There's no way you got it from me, I adore attention._

"You could ask for attention a bit more," Lenore informed Thomas when he awoke as they parked the car in the driveway. "It wouldn't kill you."

Gershom was standing beside the car by the time Lenore got out, muttering something about strange carts that moved without horses. After adjusting the position of the diaper bag's strap on her shoulder, she reached back into the car and extricated Thomas and his car seat from the vehicle.

"Stop!" Gershom shouted frantically, grabbing her waist and yanking her back a few feet. "What if a scorpion has taken up residence in your cart, woman?!"

"What would a scorpion being doing in the car?" Lenore argued skeptically.

"Scorpions take shelter in cool, shady areas during the day. Everyone who has an ounce of intelligence knows that," Gershom returned, eyeing her as if he was currently wondering if she was a witless fool. "I'll retrieve the child; I've built up an immunity to scorpions' venom."

"There aren't any scorpions in there, you idiot," Lenore snapped. "If there was one, it would've bit me already!"

Gershom's eyes widened as if this had just occurred to him. With a worried look in his brown eyes, he leapt onto Lenore, knocking her to the ground in his tackle. He pressed his ear to her bosom, listening to her heartbeat and breathing for a few moments.

"What is wrong with you?" she shrieked as she struggled beneath him. Gershom grabbed her jaw and inspected the inside of her mouth, entirely unconcerned by her protestations.

"You show no signs," Gershom sighed with relief after he finished his inspection. "And no vultures circle overhead awaiting your flesh for their supper. This is a good omen."

Lenore shook her head as the man stood and proceeded to retrieve her son from the car. Erik was standing a few feet to Lenore's left, looking rather amused by the whole scenario. "Don't even think of laughing at that," Lenore commanded Erik darkly.

* * *

"Isn't Gershom great?" Tammy beamed, thoroughly enjoying this new immortal.

"I forgot how much fun Gershom could be," Hiroshi chuckled, as he had been reading the whole thing over Tammy's shoulder.

"I love Gershom," Tammy giggled.

"Oh, cupcake, that wounds my heart," Hiroshi whined, putting on a sad puppy face.

"Silly Jack, I don't love him like that," Tammy explained. "Besides, even if I did, I have the feeling he wouldn't realize…he's got a few wires loose, if you catch my drift."

"I still feel rather hurt by your words. Perhaps you could make it up to me by letting me sleep with you tonight."

The shocky spork was once more employed in the important task of subduing Hiroshi. "Well, don't forget to review," Tammy reminded her readers. "**And**, Der Drache Dame has posted the first chapter of the prequel!!! Go read it, people! It's really good!"


	47. Chapter 47

Lady Taevyn: This chapter contains even more Gershom! And Sanura is very cute, yes. About rabbiting with the story…well, that'll depend on how much homework I end up having to do and such.

Lethia: Gershom is great fun, just you wait till you read this chapter.

Artzee: Egyptian Maus are not bald kitties. They are oh so adorably spotted kitties. Just google search images for Egyptian mau.

Jadesy: You may hug Hiroshi, but you may not stroke him…until I've decided how I feel, I claim him as my immortal, and therefore all stroking rights belong to me and me alone! (I'd claim Erik, but I kinda married him to Lenore, so…)

Der Drache Dame: Get another chapter of the prequel up…and maybe get another chapter ready for me to beta.

Sabriel: I'm glad you enjoy the two new immortals. Khaldun isn't one we're going to see often, but Gershom on the other hand… And I think it's a good thing that you still like Raghnall best, at least you're not fickle.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

The young man with iron gray eyes regarded William with exasperation. "You are failing miserably," he informed William curtly. "You need to get the senior manager to retire as soon as possible. So far, you've done nothing to convince her you are capable of handling the business."

"She is a very cautious woman, Master," William replied worriedly, keeping his eyes on the floor. "Madam Johannson is determined to stay on for a full year before her retirement."

"And it is your duty to convince her otherwise," the boy snarled angrily. His plans were at a standstill, and would remain there until Rosalyn Johannson was out of the picture.

"She resists any form of persuasion I try," William defended himself.

The boy snatched the goblet of wine from his desk and threw it at the wall. It was as if everything was conspiring against him. He had to execute his plans as swiftly as possible; time was running out faster than he had first anticipated. _Just four more and then…but how quickly will those four perform their duties? Damn that mule-headed woman! Perhaps I should have her removed from the scene in a more permanent way…No. That would ruin my plans entirely. It would be too painful then, and **she** would refuse. I need **her** to accept the proposal, or everything I've done thus far is for naught, and my plans will be utterly ruined. There's not enough time left to come up with something else, either._

"Clean that up," the boy commanded William tersely, gesturing to the pool of wine containing the shattered remains of the glass goblet. _I need to get Johannson out of the Opera House. By the end of November, preferably. Earlier if possible. I hope the woman rots in Hell for the problems she has caused me…But wishing for that doesn't get anything accomplished right now. I could take care of it if I meet with her, but it's risky to do such a thing. If he sees…he'll figure it out, and that'll spoil the surprise. I need to get her out of the Opera House for a brief meeting. Then he'll never know._ "William, I believe you should invite Madam Johannson out for supper one evening. Your cousin Justin is not invited, nor is your senior manager's family. Just the two of you, and myself. It would be delightful to meet this stubborn woman you are so incapable of handling yourself."

"As you wish, Master," William said, bowing his head in acquiescence.

* * *

Lenore immediately snatched Thomas' car seat out of Gershom's hands and, turning sharply on her heel, stormed up the front steps and into the manor. _Bloody freak, inspecting me for signs of a scorpion bite!_

"You look perturbed, chérie," Erik commented as he followed her into the entrance hall.

"What kind of idiot thinks there are scorpions in France?" Lenore snapped.

"A rather intelligent one," Erik replied. "I can think of at least five subspecies that live in France."

"Get out," Lenore gasped in shock. "Is our house scorpion-proof?"

"No. I didn't see it as a necessity, since the subspecies of scorpions seen in France have all been sighted in the southern areas of the country, near Spain," Erik said with a shrug.

"If one of them travels north, and stings me or the kids, I'll kill you for not taking every precaution," Lenore informed her husband.

"I suppose that's fair," he responded.

Gershom entered the entrance hall, looking around warily for scorpions, vultures, and any other threats that might be lurking around. He sniffed the air, and a look of shock covered his face. He sniffed again, and his expression turned to one of amazement and delight. "There is a great store of water here," he exclaimed. Not seeing the water, however, he dropped to the floor and began trying to dig through the marble in an attempt to uncover a spring that, to his way of thinking, must be buried beneath the sand.

"Leave the floor alone," Lenore hissed at the immortal.

"Fear not, woman, I'll uncover the spring," Gershom assured her. "Soon, we shall partake of its sweet waters while becoming acquainted with one another."

"If you want water, Gordon can get you a glass," Lenore told him, gesturing to the dog demon that was currently taking Erik's cloak to be hung up in the proper closet.

Gershom paused in his attack on the floor, staring up at her in confusion. "Glass? Is it another form of water?" he asked.

"Glass had not yet been discovered when he was made immortal, ma petite," Erik whispered in Lenore's ear.

"Glass is not a form of water," Lenore answered Gershom's inquiry. "It's quartz sand that's"-

"Sand. I have no use or need for sand. Sand is abundant," Gershom muttered, going back to his task of digging through the floor.

A mouse demon in a maid's uniform came scurrying into the room and threw herself underneath Gershom's hands. "Please, sir, you're ruining the flooring," she wept. "I'm responsible for the state of the floor in the entrance hall! I'll get the birch!"

"Move aside, girl!" Gershom commanded. "There is water in this place, and I will find it!"

"The floor," she wept in response.

Gershom shoved her aside in his urgency to get to the nonexistent spring he believed in. At that moment, Gordon reappeared and took Lenore's coat from her, then approached the insane man attacking the floor in search of water.

"May I take your cloak sir?" he offered.

"Are you mad? The sun would kill me without my robe," Gershom proclaimed.

"Gershom!" Lenore snarled, gaining the immortal's full attention. "If you want water, we'll have someone bring you a cup of it. Stop attacking the floor, it's not going to produce a spring without divine intervention."

"Cup…cup…I know that word," Gershom mumbled, once again pausing his attack as he tried to contemplate where he'd heard that word before.

"It's been at least seven thousand three hundred years since he's used a cup," Erik pointed out to Lenore in a soft voice.

"Why don't you handle him if you know so much about him?" Lenore snarled in reply, taking Sonata's car seat from Erik and preparing to take the children upstairs. Gordon ran over to her, eager to get the twins' coats and hats before she went up. "Gordon, would you be so kind as to deliver a stiff brandy to the master bedroom?" she inquired in a voice too low for Erik to hear.

"Of course. Master Dessler likes a touch of ice with his brandy, correct?" Gordon replied, not realizing she intended the brandy for herself.

"No ice in this one," Lenore instructed.

Gordon nodded and finished removing the twins' things. He turned to go, and Lenore began up the stairs. "Master Dessler, I'll have your brandy in the master bedroom in ten minutes, if that is acceptable," Gordon commented.

Lenore winced. _Damn._

"I didn't ask for a brandy," Erik said, suspicion dripping from his voice.

Lenore picked up her pace, hoping to get up the stairs before Erik realized how Gordon might have gotten the impression that Erik wanted a drink.

"But your wife"- Gordon began to say.

"I just thought you might like one," Lenore interrupted, whirling around on the stairs. "It's been a rough day with the press and all."

"Seeing as how you're the one retiring to the master bedroom, I assume you meant the alcohol for yourself," Erik said, seeing through her lie.

"After meeting that"- (she gestured in Gershom's direction, who was oblivious to her gesture as he was busy digging for his fictitious spring again) –"who wouldn't need a drink?"

"Do not forget that you are breastfeeding, chérie," Erik returned sharply.

"Really? I breastfeed? I never would have guessed," Lenore spat back.

"Don't take that tone with me," Erik admonished.

"I'll take any tone I like with you," Lenore retorted.

"We'll discuss this later," he dismissed her, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Discuss my ass!" she grumbled, turning and continuing up the stairs. "Lecture me on why I can't have alcohol occasionally is more like it."

* * *

Erik growled softly as he watched her continue up the stairs, complaining to herself about his controlling nature no doubt. He had repeatedly told her that drinking while breastfeeding was bad for the children. It would decrease weight gain, and the doctor was already displeased with Sonata's progress. There was no need to make it worse.

"Is she your wife?" Gershom inquired absently, his fingers still burrowing into the marble.

"Yes," Erik answered. _And it's moments like this when I wonder if it was a fool decision to marry her._

"I suppose that's good for you then. If she was your daughter, you'd have a time marrying her off." Gershom decided his fingers weren't making progress at an acceptable rate and drew his scimitar. "I've never seen such firm sand before…"

Erik managed to snatch the scimitar away just before it touched the marble. "We have tapped into the spring and brought it to the surface. If you care for a drink, I'll have one brought."

"Lead me to the spring, stranger. I must refill my water bag," Gershom stated.

"This way," Erik sighed, handing the weapon back to the madman and heading for the closest faucet.

* * *

William's heart began racing the moment he heard the office door click shut behind Justin. He was now alone with Madam Johannson, a perfect opportunity. If only it went as well as he imagined it.

"Madam, I've been thinking," he said tentatively.

"Well, that's a change," Madam Johannson replied, not even looking up from her work.

"I…I feel badly about my attempts at having you retire early," William continued, pretending to ignore the insult. "I'm afraid I was overconfident. I believed Justin and I could handle things, but I see now that we're not quite prepared."

"So youth isn't blind after all," she commented dryly. "Just stupid."

"I would like to make it up to you," William persisted. "Would you…would you have dinner with me tomorrow night at Le Train Bleu? Entirely on me."

The senior manager finally looked up, regarding William with a probing, curious stare. "Le Train Bleu?" she inquired, knowing full well that it was an extremely expensive restaurant. "Just you? What about Justin?"

"Justin had no part in my rather rude attempts to take over the business," William replied. At least Madam Johannson hadn't said 'no' immediately.

"Dinner at Le Train Bleu, just you and me?" she asked. William nodded. "Look, I'm very flattered, Steele, but I'm a married woman."

"No, Madam, it's nothing like that," William hastened to assure her. "It's merely meant as an apology for my poor behavior. Nothing more."

"Well…" Madam Johannson sighed, obviously debating over whether or not to come. "I guess I could. But just this once."

"Thank you, Madam. It means a great deal to me," William said, relief flooding his body. _Master will be pleased. Thank goodness she agreed, I don't know what would've happened to me if she hadn't.

* * *

_

"Chérie, open the door," Erik entreated from the hallway.

"No," Lenore replied, standing inches from the door and glowering.

"I promise I won't lecture you," Erik said, attempting to gain access to the room.

"No good," she informed him imperiously. "The only way I'm unlocking that door is if you promise to let me have an alcoholic beverage tonight."

"Unlock the door," Erik implored her.

"Not until you promise."

"Tulia, open the door," Erik commanded.

Tulia gave a squeak and reached for the door.

"Open the door, and I'll personally flog you," Lenore informed the girl. She wouldn't really, but the threat would be enough to stop Tulia from doing what Erik said.

Tulia gave another squeak and took a step back from the door.

"If she attempts to thrash you for doing what I told you to, I'll intervene and see to it that she's whipped for her flagrant disregard of my authority," Erik told Tulia.

"And then I'd flog you for whipping me," Lenore threatened him.

"This is your last warning, ma chouchoute," Erik said sharply.

"Oh, what are you going to do from the hallway? Shout at me? Gee, I'm terrified," Lenore said sarcastically.

There was silence from the hallway. Lenore moved closer to the door to listen for the sound of a key being inserted in the lock. Surely Gordon or someone had a spare key to the bedroom. Lenore had the only key that she knew for a fact existed, and she clutched it tightly in her hand, glaring at the door as she waited.

Just as she was about to peer through the keyhole, she heard the key as it made its way into the lock. "Oh no you don't," she whispered, grabbing the chair she'd dragged over earlier and shoving it in front of the door.

Needless to say, Lenore jumped a mile when she heard glass shattering behind her. She whipped around and stared at the fragments of the stained glass window that now littered the floor. Erik climbed into the room, the arm he'd used to break the glass bleeding severely. Lenore gaped at him, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"I did warn you," Erik said softly.

"Will that be all, Master Dessler?" Gordon asked from the hallway.

"Yes, thank you Gordon," Erik dismissed the dog.

"But…" Lenore stammered, not able to say any more than that.

"You expected me to come through the door," Erik explained.

"You scaled the wall and broke our window," Lenore finally managed to snap. "Just to lecture me on why I can't have alcohol, right? That's the whole point, isn't it?"

"No, not at the moment," he declared. "One of the servants informed me you were sulking in here, not intending to come out until you had your way. I asked you politely to let me in, repeatedly, but you refused. You cannot afford to act like a spoiled child now that you have two children to be caring for. Also, you are the mistress of this house, and as such, you are expected to be present at the table when we have dinner guests. Gershom is waiting at the table as we speak. Change into something more appropriate and be at the table in ten minutes, or I'll return to assist you."

Lenore knew he had a good point; she wasn't being a good hostess. But then again, she wanted to have a drink tonight. She was used to getting what she wanted, and she wasn't about to let Erik guilt her into being a proper wife until she had his word that she could have a drink. As he swung out the window, she decided that she could wait out his resolve on the matter of alcohol and breastfeeding.

Walking over to the window, she ignored the glass that crunched beneath her slippers. She stuck her head out and watched him descend the wall. When his feet hit the ground, she spoke. "I'm not coming to dinner. Not until you promise to let me have a drink." As an afterthought, she added, "And not until Gershom leaves. I'm not eating with any member of your family except the one that raised me."

* * *

Erik stormed back into the house, all but stomping. She was acting like such a child! Sulking, whining, and being disobedient until she got what she wanted. It was no way for a woman her age to be acting at all. When she'd informed him she wasn't going to dinner, Erik had almost started back up the wall. But he wasn't going to go to the trouble of scaling that wall again. He had another solution.

Gordon seemed confused by Erik's request, but scurried off to do his master's bidding. Erik took the stairs two at a time, and waited for Gordon's return outside the door to the master bedroom.

"Chérie, I suggest you change your mind concerning dinner," Erik called in as Gordon handed him the object he'd asked for.

"Only if you change your mind about letting me drink," she replied.

Erik grimaced. He hated to do this. He'd already broken a window to get to her, but sometimes, sacrifices must be made. He plunged the axe into the door.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked from inside the room.

"Removing an obstacle," Erik replied as he wrenched the axe free for another swing.

The door was jerked open almost immediately. "Look what you did to our door!" Lenore gasped, surveying the damage.

Erik merely shoved the axe into Gordon's hand, took Lenore by the arm and dragged her out of the room. "I understand Hiroshi spoiled you," Erik said as he pulled her down the hallway to the stairs. "You are used to getting everything you want, no matter how bad it may be for you. It's time you realized that you can't always have your way. Occasionally, you have to make sacrifices."

"All I want is one drink," Lenore snarled. "I haven't been allowed any alcohol since January! It's the beginning of November now, and I just want one little drink. It's not a crime! I made the sacrifice while I was pregnant, but I refuse to make that sacrifice anymore."

"It's bad for the twins," Erik reminded her.

"One drink isn't going to kill them," Lenore replied.

Erik stopped and grabbed her shoulders, looking into her eyes. "Please stop this," he pleaded. "I've waited one hundred and fifty years to have children, Lenore. A hundred and fifty years! I don't want you taking the slightest risk that might compromise their health. These are the only two we'll ever have. Can you understand it? Can you understand my concern?"

"I can," Lenore replied. "But you're going to worry yourself into exhaustion over nothing. They're kids, Erik. They're going to get sick sometime, they'll break bones. They can't be perfect, no matter how much you want them to be."

Erik knew she was right. But he felt that he should do everything he could to keep them safe and healthy. _But she's right._

"One drink," Erik sighed. "Extremely watered down."

"Slightly watered down," she argued.

"Half and half," he suggested as a compromise.

"I suppose that'll do," she conceded.

* * *

Gershom looked at his handiwork and smiled. He'd done an excellent job. Certainly his host would be pleased.

"What"- the woman started to say when she walked into the room. She turned and glared at Gershom. "You bloody idiot!"

Gershom wasn't sure what she was so angry about. The table had been far too high, so he'd rectified the problem by slicing off part of the legs and dropping it down to a height at which it could easily be eaten off of while lounging on cushions, as was proper. Then he'd retrieved a sufficient supply of cushions from the room of strange benches that were covered with pillows. He had taken great care in arranging the cushions for comfortable seating. Cushions were a luxury he hadn't had since his banishment.

"You do not approve of the way I arranged the seating?" Gershom asked, certain that was her problem. He'd placed cushions for her directly next to her husband at the head of the table. Most wives wanted to sit as close to their husbands as possible. Especially when a man had more than one wife. The closer you sat to your husband, the more affection he held for you. But the way the two had been bickering earlier, perhaps she wished to be seated as far from him as possible.

"You murdered my table," she informed him.

"It was not alive to begin with," Gershom told her gently. Obviously her mind was not in tact.

"You cut off the legs! It's ruined now!"

"It is at a good height for eating now," Gershom corrected.

"It was fine where it was, if you'd sat in the chairs like a normal person!"

"Chairs are for dignitaries and kings," Gershom replied, wondering what kind of simple woman in the desert would think herself of such high authority that she actually had chairs, much less used them.

His host whispered softly to his wife, and after a few moments she nodded and took a seat on the cushions. Clearly the man knew how to pacify his insane wife and keep her quiet.

After his host took a seat, a few men entered carrying bowls. Gershom was delighted to find these bowls contained water. He snatched his from the man who had it almost immediately, and drank deeply, not spilling a drop. Water was not to be wasted. He almost drained the contents, leaving a small amount, and Gershom set it down to be consumed later.

Another man entered the room and approached Gershom, reaching for the bowl. Gershom leapt to his feet and threw the man to the wall, pinning him there. "Bandit!" he accused fiercely, drawing a dagger and preparing to slit the man's throat. Of course, he could not murder the thief in his host's tents without his host's approval. "He attempts to steal water from you, and your guests," Gershom informed his host, waiting for permission to take the wretched bandit's life.

"He wasn't attempting to steal it," his host replied calmly. "His intention was to refill your bowl."

"Is that the way of it?" Gershom questioned his captive.

The man, his eyes wide and staring straight ahead, managed a small nod.

Gershom consulted the sky for a moment. "It seems the vultures are nowhere near. Your life will be spared this once. But if I find you have lied, the vultures will be waiting for you."

He released the man and returned to his seat. The man grabbed his bowl, hurried out, and returned within thirty seconds with the bowl refilled. Gershom wasn't sure this young man was entirely trustworthy; he'd have to keep an eye on him.

"You have given me a generous supply of water," Gershom remarked, turning his attentions to his host. "I should know your name, so that I may return the favor one day."

"My name is Erik," his host supplied.

Gershom took it in stride; he was far from home and foreigners always had strange names. "If I am unable to return this favor here on Earth, then we shall feast together in God's kingdom above."

After a few moments of silence in which the meal was brought forth, Gershom decided he should learn about Erik, the man God had sent him to meet.

"How many wives do you have, Erik?" Gershom inquired conversationally.

"Just this one," Erik said, a small smile on his face as though he was laughing at some secret joke.

"Well, she does seem quite a handful," Gershom mused. "But surely many men have offered you their daughters in exchange for water. Were those daughters all so ugly that you could not bear their image?"

"My wife has many faces, many personalities. I find that having her is like having multiple wives," Erik responded.

"But you have a great store of water; you are quite clearly a wealthy man. You should have the proper amount of wives for your station," Gershom observed. "When I take my first wife, you'll have any daughters she bears."

"I thank you for your kind thoughtfulness, Gershom," Erik said. "I graciously accept your offer."

Erik's wife smacked him upside the head.

"Erik, is your wife suffering permanent illness? She's rather violent, and she seems to be delusional, by all those strange things she speaks about," Gershom noted.

"He's not taking anymore wives," the woman declared.

"Chérie, he"- Erik began to say.

"Why were you so quick to agree, hm? You don't love me anymore, do you?"

Gershom stared at the woman in wonder. Chérie must be her name, as Erik had called her that once before. "Chérie, surely you know that love is irrelevant in a marriage," Gershom declared. "What matters is that your husband can provide you with water, and that you bear him sons in return."

"What did you call me?" the woman asked, the look in her eyes reminding Gershom of a vulture ready to swoop in upon its prey and deliver a finishing blow.

"Chérie," he replied honestly. He couldn't afford to lie; he had to live a good life so that he could be accepted into Heaven. "It must be your name, Erik has called you Chérie twice now." He paused briefly. "Oh, forgive me. It must be a shortened version of your full name. I didn't mean to sound too familiar." He struggled to bring to mind names that might begin with 'cher', finally coming up with one. "I'm truly sorry, Cherith, I meant no disrespect."

"That's not"- Cherith began to say.

"Silence," Gershom breathed. "I hear something…" And indeed he did. A bell was ringing somewhere in the tents, and Gershom had the feeling it did not hold a positive meaning. Just as he was about to rise and determine what had caused the bell to ring, a man with six arms stepped into the room, holding a terrified woman who wore an extremely short skirt and a jacket that matched the skirt overtop of a white shirt. She had a bag over her shoulder. Most likely a bandit, come to steal gold or water.

"I've caught an insect," the man proclaimed. "May I eat it, Erik?"

"I assume you're a reporter, madam?" Erik addressed the female bandit.

"Oui Monsieur Dessler," the woman replied. "I've come to ask you and your wife a few questions."

"Liar!" Gershom hissed. "You are clearly a bandit. You think that because you are a woman, no one will believe you to be a thief. But I know better. Admit the truth and apologize for your deception!"

"I'm not a thief," the woman argued.

"The press robs people of their privacy; in a sense, you are a thief, Madam," Erik responded.

"Let me eat her, Erik," the man holding her said. "I haven't eaten a mortal in so long."

"This is Veleno," Erik informed Gershom. "Do you think I should let him eat this woman?"

"You should have him cut off one of her hands, to teach her that stealing is a crime," Gershom said sagely.

"Veleno is not eating her, nor is he cutting off any body parts," Cherith stated firmly.

"We can't let her go, chérie," Erik pointed out. "She'll tell others where we live, and then we'll be overrun with these pests."

"Erik, our house is huge. We have multiple guest rooms. There's no need to kill her," Cherith reasoned.

"You intend to keep her prisoner until her death?" Erik inquired.

"No, just until we can be sure she won't tell anyone else where we live," Cherith argued.

"A spectacular plan, except that it would never work," Erik replied.

"Oh, just let me eat her. It solves the problem, does it not?" Veleno said.

Erik sighed heavily. "Fine, eat her. But do it somewhere else, please," Erik finally granted.

"Erik! You can't let him eat her! She doesn't deserve that!" Cherith snapped.

"She is a bandit, and deserves a worse fate than being consumed by your cannibalistic servant," Gershom contradicted.

"How old are you, insect?" Veleno inquired.

"Twenty five," the woman replied, though she was clearly at least thirty.

Veleno licked her neck. "Thirty three. You have a taste of fine age to you. You will be delicious. Not as delectable as a younger meal, but still tasty enough to my liking," Veleno commented as he began dragging the woman from the room. She began screaming.

* * *

Rosalyn stepped out of the taxi after paying the driver and made her way to the doors of Le Train Bleu. William had a few errands to run and had told her he'd meet her there. All she had to do was inform the staff that she was under the reservation 'Steele'.

She was wearing a nice, but rather modest dress. She didn't want to give young William the wrong impression. She was rather certain his intentions were more on a romantic level than he claimed. Sighing and preparing to put up with a foolish young man's flirtations for the evening, she walked into the restaurant.

The moment she said the word 'Steele', a waiter began leading her through the tables filled with chattering customers. When the waiter finally seated her, she was shocked to find a boy barely out of his teens already at the table, his blonde hair falling into his iron gray eyes.

"Please have a seat, Madam Johannson," the boy said, his voice colder than death and dripping with danger. "I'm well acquainted with William Steele, and I'd love to have a chat with you."

Against her better judgment, Rosalyn found herself taking the seat he offered. "What's your name?" she asked the boy.

"That's not what I'm here to discuss," the boy replied carelessly. "I'm here to discuss your early retirement."

_Damn Steele. He set me up, getting me to come here and have his friend try to intimidate me into early retirement. I can't believe I fell for the whole apology crap._

"If you think you're going to frighten me into retiring, you're wrong," Rosalyn informed the boy.

"Whoever said anything about frightening?" the boy said, a grin full of malice on his face.

"I think I should go now," Rosalyn said firmly, scooting her chair back.

"You'll stay," the boy stated.

Rosalyn was about to tell him that he couldn't boss her around when she realized her body seemed to have frozen. She tried to stand up, but her legs wouldn't comply.

"I'm afraid you can't leave until I've finished rearranging a few things," the boy told her. "Don't even think of calling for help; it would be a futile exercise even if I allowed it."

Rosalyn was as close to panic as she could come. Her body wouldn't move, her voice wouldn't work, and she could feel things shifting in her mind. She battled against these shifts in her mind as much as she could.

"Don't fight me, you'll only make this take longer. And besides, it's for Lenore. Don't you want to do this for her? Don't you want her to be happy?"

* * *

"Oooo, Rosalyn's mind is being messed with! Poor Rosalyn," Tammy commiserated.

"I know who that boy is," Hiroshi said smugly.

"That's because you peeked into my mind and memorized the plot of the story," Tammy mumbled grumpily. "Stay out of my head from now on, or else!"

"Or else what?"

"Don't make me break out the shocky spork!"

Hiroshi managed to combat his fear of said spork by summoning his resentment over of his captivity in this mortal's dorm room.

"Anyways, review, and all that jazz…don't forget to check out Der Drache Dame's prequel and review it too," Tammy said. "And if you can't find Drache Dame, just go to my profile, and select favorite stories, cuz the prequel's listed as one of my favs."

"Perhaps we should go shopping, creampuff," Hiroshi suggested. Shopping always seemed to soothe the authoress, which resulted in the shocky spork staying in the desk drawer for at least a week if not longer.

"Are you paying for whatever I want to buy?" There was a brief silence. "I didn't t think so." Tammy sighed and retrieved the shocky spork from the drawer, using its persuasive powers on Hiroshi so that he would decide to fund the next shopping trip.


	48. Chapter 48

Lady Taevyn: Yes, depression sucks. As the commercial says "Depression hurts everyone." Definitely hurt me…you weren't on, so I wasn't too excited to sit down and write anything…Although part of the reason this chapter took so long to get out is because of all the homework my profs keep giving me. I hardly have a free moment to myself. Thank God for having two snow days in the week that allowed me to catch up on my work and let me spend the weekend preparing a chapter.

Lethia: Cherith, yes, lol. Gershom is so much fun. And poor Rosalyn…

Artzee: Hopefully you can scan the pictures very soon, and I'll finally get my Christmas present of said pictures from you. Don't feel bad that you haven't given it to me yet…I have a friend who has yet to deliver my Christmas and birthday present, and she lives in the dorm building five minutes away from my own.

Jadesy: Um, if you wanna stab the boy with a spoon, go right ahead. But I strongly recommend against it, as I know who he is and I wouldn't want to mess with him myself.

Der Drache Dame: Well, I'm glad you were amused when Lenore got caught being sneaky and trying to get herself a brandy, lol.

Sabriel: Well, I'm afraid nothing is revealed about the boy in this chapter. Perhaps, if you pay extremely close attention to details concerning the sections with the boy, you'll figure it out. I've tried to make it extremely discrete though…so…

MJ MOD: Yeah, Gershom's weird. I suppose the sun frying his brain would have that effect on him. How was Lenore supposed to stop Veleno? He only listens to Erik, as Erik is considered the master of the house. The only way Veleno would take an order from Lenore is if it was something he wanted to do or else Erik wasn't present at the time. And while Erik could have messed with the reporter's mind, it wouldn't have made much difference, as more reporters were bound to find the house anyway. As far as Erik sees it, if enough reporters never come back from their quest to find the Dessler estate, the media will stop sending them.

Black Hole Phoenix: Yes, poor little mousie-demon that Gershom shoved aside. And yes, all hail the persuasive power of the shocky spork!

Shariena: Glad that you're still here. Sorry I haven't updated sooner. Being a college student sucks…too much homework to do if I wanna pass my classes.

Adusiriel: Hey, at least you haven't deserted us. So it's alright that it took so long to get caught up. As to who the boy is, as I told Sabriel, I haven't revealed anything. (aka, I haven't come right out and said who the boy is/where he comes from. It's possible, if you pay extremely close attention, that you'll figure it out.)

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

"What?" Lenore mumbled, slowly waking up. She quickly realized Erik wasn't in bed with her, nor did he appear to be in the room. And what had woken her was Thomas, making a sound that distinctly conveyed the fact that he wanted to be held. "You decide to start demanding attention at 2:30 in the morning?" Lenore complained under her breath as she got out of bed and approached his cradle.

The moment his golden eyes caught sight of her, he smiled and ceased his demands. Lenore picked him up, not able to stop herself from smiling at how cute he was being. "You'll be just like your father; I won't be able to stay mad at you for long," she commented.

Thomas reached up and snagged a handful of her hair in his tiny fist. She gently freed her locks from his clutches, shifting his position so that his head rested against her shoulder. He made a soft sound that let her know he was pleased with this position, and he took another handful of hair as he buried his face in her shoulder.

Lenore just chuckled and pulled her hair out of his fist just enough that it didn't feel as if he was yanking it out. It seemed Thomas just wanted to be held. _I suppose babies want to be held a lot. Though he's never really shown much interest in social interaction before. Not like Sonata; she wants someone talking to her and holding her every minute that she's not eating or sleeping. _Looking into Sonata's cradle to see if she might want attention as well, Lenore was surprised to find it empty. _Erik must have taken her out of the room…but why? She wasn't making any noise, or I would've woken up._

Still holding Thomas, Lenore walked out into the hallway. She stood outside the bedroom door for a moment, not sure which direction to go. Maybe Erik had taken Sonata down the hall to the nursery. But then again, maybe he had her in his study while he was working on the plans for a new building of some sort.

Finally deciding the nursery was the logical place to start, she turned right. She padded down the hall in her bare feet, considering going back for her slippers as the floor was so cold. She reached the nursery and pushed the door open, disappointed to find the room dark and empty.

_Damnit, where the hell are they?_ Lenore was about to turn and head back the other way when she noticed a very soft glow coming from a room at the end of the hall. She hadn't really seen very much of the house at all, so she didn't know what this room could possibly be. _If I find out it's a torture chamber and he's got that reporter in there, he's dead. Especially if he's letting Sonata watch._

Lenore reached the door in record time, and let out a sigh of relief when she found the door unlocked. Entering the room, Lenore was stunned by what she could see in the dim light. The room was full of books and maps, drawing and mathematical tools, and all manner of learning materials. _I can't believe this. It's like a school, crammed into one room. Erik's clearly planned for their education._ At the back of the room, there was a small soundproof booth containing a myriad of instruments, the walls of the booth comprised of incredibly thick glass.

And there sat Erik at the piano, holding Sonata in his lap with one hand while playing with the other. She seemed to be thoroughly enjoying herself, and was stretching out her small arm, trying to reach the ivory keys that were far out of her range.

* * *

Erik smiled down at the top of Sonata's head as she desperately tried to put a hand on the piano's keys. "You're not big enough yet, petit ange," he chuckled. "Just a few more years, and you can play all you like." As if she understood his words, her little arm dropped and she tilted her head back to look up at him with sad eyes. "Alright, but just this once," he said, picking her up and holding her within reach of the keys.

When her hands met the ivory and produced a discordant combination of keys, she jerked her arms back as if burned. "It's not as easy as I make it look, ange," he told the infant in his arms.

"Don't you think she's a bit young for piano lessons?" Lenore inquired from the doorway. He hadn't heard her open the door, but soundproof rooms were designed that way.

"It wasn't really a lesson," Erik replied, looking at his wife. He noted that Thomas was happily reclining against his mother's shoulder, a fistful of hair clutched tightly in a hand that held the soft tresses so that they rested upon Thomas's cheek. "Is he having problems sleeping?"

"No, he just wants a good snuggling," Lenore shrugged. "You wanna take him?"

"He looks comfortable where he's at," Erik pointed out.

"Maybe he is, but I like to sleep. And you don't. So if he wants to be up and held, you can do it," Lenore reasoned through a huge yawn.

"If you wish, chérie," Erik said. He didn't like the fact that she didn't seem to want to use this opportunity to bond with Thomas, but he understood her exhaustion. Even when he was a child, Erik hardly ever slept. It just wasn't something he seemed to need as frequently as everyone else. And Lenore spent a good portion of her day dealing with the twins, so if he could take them at night there was no reason not to.

The moment Lenore eased Thomas off her shoulder, their son released his first real cry. He literally screamed his lungs out, his face turning red and tears running down his cheeks. In a panic, Lenore quickly replaced him to his former position against her shoulder. Thomas quieted immediately.

"What was that all about?" Lenore asked Thomas. "You kids don't do that! You make those musical sounds!"

"It would seem he wants you to be the one to hold him," Erik commented, an amused grin tugging on the corners of his mouth.

"Thomas, no. I'm exhausted," Lenore complained. "You suck me dry all day long, your sister needs constant attention every waking moment…Your father hardly gets to spend any time with you, it's a perfect bonding opportunity for you and him."

Thomas merely snuggled into his mother's shoulder with a contented smile and a soft sigh.

"And this is why I didn't want children. Keeping me up all night, becoming attached to me, and wanting my undivided attention," Lenore muttered. She gave Erik a look that pleaded for help.

"He wants you," Erik replied.

"You could manipulate him with your voice so that he wants you," Lenore pointed out grumpily.

"That would be morally wrong, ma petite," Erik smirked, knowing she'd have something to say about that.

"Who are you to talk about morals? You let a spider demon eat a poor defenseless reporter! You've poked around in my head too many times to count, and let's not forget that you've killed people."

"Yes, but none of those things effected our children," Erik responded.

"We were discussing morals, not what actions of yours have and have not affected the twins," Lenore retorted.

"But this particular action would effect Thomas; thus I cannot do as you ask without feeling horrendous guilt for the rest of my life," Erik informed her.

"So you can kill people and screw around with my mind without feeling horrendous guilt?" Lenore snapped.

"Very few people deserve to be alive; most of them are tremendously corrupt and sinful, so I don't see as I'm doing any harm by ridding the world of such vermin. As to the subject of your mind…well, it's fun to play with. And I know what I'm doing when it comes to toying with minds, so it's not as if it'll hurt you."

"You are severely twisted," Lenore remarked.

"It probably stems from parental neglect," Erik said, knowing it would make her feel bad for trying to hand Thomas off.

"Well, if you acted anything like you do now, I couldn't say as I blame your mother. You're not exactly easy to handle, you know," Lenore returned.

"Oh, I was worse as a child," Erik assured her. "I was continuously breaking the china, or etching architectural plans into the dining room table, or putting Mother into trances with my voice…Really, I'm not half as horrible as I used to be."

"And you say all this without an ounce of regret," Lenore muttered.

"She deserved the suffering I caused her," Erik replied darkly.

"She couldn't have been all that bad," Lenore argued.

"You have no idea. I was punished for the most ridiculous reasons. If I was tapping out a rhythm that had entered my mind, I received a sharp slap across the face. Just for tapping out a simple rhythm! She kept me locked in that damn house, never letting me out. I wasn't even allowed to play in my own backyard. I had to stay inside because someone might see me. I was barely older than two years when she threw my clothes at me one day and told me I'd have to learn to fend for myself. And I spent a whole day in that attic room, in tears because I couldn't fasten that bloody mask and I knew I would receive a beating if I went downstairs without it. So you tell me how awful my mother was, Lenore," Erik snarled.

"Why didn't your father ever stop her?" Lenore asked softly.

"He was killed by an accident on a building site three months before I was born," Erik said coldly. He could have no affection for a man he'd never known, for the man who'd married the horrible woman his mother had shown herself to be.

"Wasn't there anyone else? What about that Mademoiselle Perrault you mentioned?"

"She was as timid as Tulia."

"I can't dispute that your past is rather…dreadful. But it's no excuse," Lenore declared. "You know the difference between right and wrong, but you don't care. You'll do something you know is wrong, just because it's what you want."

"There's no point in denying myself anything I want," Erik shrugged. "I'll never have to suffer Judgment; my soul's been condemned already. I might as well indulge myself."

"What if the police caught you?"

"What if they did? They can't kill me. And if they imprisoned me…do you honestly think Satan would leave me rotting in jail? Considering that I'm the only immortal to ever remove an archangel's wing, I find it highly unlikely."

"It's still no excuse," Lenore insisted. "Just because you don't have to worry about dealing with the consequences doesn't mean you should do things that you know are wrong! Our children are going to look to you for guidance. Are you going to teach them to take whatever they want and not worry about the consequences?"

"Of course not," Erik replied instantly.

"This is the first time you've thought about it, isn't it?" Lenore guessed with unfailing accuracy. "If I hadn't said anything, you'd never have thought of it. So from now on, you can't kill anyone, or let Veleno eat them, or anything else that you know to be wrong. Is that clear?"

"You've made yourself perfectly clear, Mother," Erik teased her lightly. "But I'm afraid I'll need an incentive to be a good boy."

"I'm sure the threat of never letting you take liberties with my body again will provide proper incentive," Lenore smugly replied, a malicious grin gracing her features.

"What a cruel mother," Erik remarked, giving her one of those pitiful puppy dog looks.

"You're trying to make me feel bad about threatening you, aren't you?" Lenore observed.

"Is it working?"

Her silence was answer enough.

Sonata startled both of them by making a soft "Ahhh" and reaching for Lenore.

* * *

"You children live to torment me," Lenore grumbled as she took Sonata and held her daughter against her other shoulder. After Sonata was comfortably settled (with a fistful of Lenore's hair clutched to her tiny chest), Lenore took Sonata's place on Erik's lap. She couldn't stand and hold the twins for very long, especially when she was so tired. "Erik…do you ever worry about how advanced the twins are? I mean…she shouldn't be able to move her arms so deliberately yet. And they can smile, and see more than most babies can, and…it worries me."

"I began walking when I was six months old," Erik told her. "And I spoke at that age as well. Most infants know the words, but not the meanings; they don't know to associate names with particular individuals. But Mademoiselle Perrault was certain that I knew what I was saying, and I don't doubt her, as she was practically a nun. She couldn't have told a lie to save her life." He paused for a moment, considering something. "And no immortal's ever had children, it could have given them a head start. Let's not forget, this is your Second Life, and you learned to walk and talk earlier than most infants. That could be another contributing factor."

"I can't raise prodigies, Erik," Lenore fretted. "I don't know the first thing about raising normal children, for heaven's sake!"

"Perhaps we should just concentrate on getting them to their first birthday, hm?" Erik suggested.

"But they'll want to learn things, earlier than most kids. They'll be reading at a young age, devouring any knowledge they can," Lenore whined. "We can't teach them, not for long. They'll quickly surpass what we can provide them with."

"Perhaps they'll quickly surpass you. But I've learned a great deal in my one hundred and seventy nine years. Trust me, they'll never run out of things to learn," Erik assured her.

"They'll think their mother's an idiot then, won't they? They'll wonder why their father married such an ignorant woman," Lenore sighed. She knew that, compared to Erik, she knew almost nothing considering how much there was to learn in the world.

"And when they ask, I'll tell them the truth. I married you because I love you, and because you felt the same. If there's one thing they learn from us, it will be that love is the most precious gift you can give someone."

* * *

William sat on the couch in his apartment, nervously flipping through the pages of an old newspaper. _When is Master going to return? What if Madam Johannson decided not to show? Master will be positively livid. And I'll be the one to suffer…I hope she went, I can't afford another failure. Master is beyond impatient…_

Another fifteen minutes of aimlessly leafing through newspapers went by, and William started to get a horrible sinking fear that his senior manager hadn't gone. And if his master spent the evening in the restaurant waiting for someone who never showed up, William would have a less than pleasant night to look forward to. Standing, William began pacing the floor, speculating over the probability of Madam Johannson's attendance at Le Train Bleu.

The door opened and his master stepped into the room, pulling white formal gloves off of his hands, a pleased smile on his face.

"It was absolutely delightful to meet your senior manager, William," the boy said as he closed the door. "You were right; she's terribly stubborn. But I find she can be persuaded, provided one has the capabilities of a master manipulator."

"So everything is"- William began to inquire.

"I've done what is necessary," his master interrupted, his anger burning in his eyes with the heat of liquid steel. "Things I shouldn't have had to do, if you hadn't proved incompetent. You did a spectacular job of mucking this whole thing up! If you'd done things proper from the beginning, we wouldn't have to deal with this second obstacle."

William winced inwardly; he should've just kept his mouth shut. Until he'd tried to ask about the current situation of his master's plans, Master had been in a good mood. But it seemed that merely speaking a few words was more than enough to remind his master that he was a complete failure.

"Now, if you think you're capable, I need a little 'accident' arranged," the boy informed him, a cruel glint in those steel eyes.

"I'm sure I can manage it," William hastened to assure the boy.

"That's what you said about Rosalyn Johannson. And somehow, I ended up removing that obstacle. Would you stake your life on it? Will you kill yourself if you fail to completely eliminate this next obstacle?"

"If you wish it, Master."

"I very well might if you fail again," the boy snapped. "Now, as for our next obstacle…"

* * *

Lenore slowly awoke to a rather passionate kiss on the lips. _Erik's in a loving mood this morning. Wonder why…maybe Gershom's gone._ Lenore opened her eyes as his lips finally pulled away-

And screamed in surprise.

"What the bleeding hell do you think you're doing?" she yelled at Hiroshi.

"Oh, don't be so upset, kitten," Hiroshi said, plastering a look of pure innocence on his face. "Erik's busy in his study, and you were just so beautiful laying there. You looked like an angel. I just had to taste those divine lips."

"Well, as flattering as that comment may be, you're my father!" she reminded him. "So squash any romantic urges that pop up from now on!"

"You didn't like my kiss?" Hiroshi inquired, his eyes filling with crocodile tears.

"Perverted old bastard," Lenore snarled, flinging back the covers and getting out of bed. "Kiss me again and I'll deck you!" She snatched a robe and flung it around her shoulders, wrapping it tightly around her frame as if it could somehow protect her from Hiroshi and his advances. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I thought you might need someone to help you look after the children," he replied, going over to the cradles and smiling down at her offspring. "And since I'm their grandfather…"

"No you aren't. You have no blood relation to them, and I'd rather you didn't screw up their lives," Lenore responded, wondering where Bishop was that he wasn't currently attached to Hiroshi's leg and trying to figure out why Tulia hadn't woken her up when Hiroshi came in the room. Which is when she noticed that Tulia was nowhere to be seen. "Where's Tulia?"

"Oh, I sent the little mouse to the kitchens, to get you some breakfast," Hiroshi answered dismissively.

"What right do you have to come into my house and boss around my staff?" Lenore hissed.

"I'm your father."

"You're a condemned immortal who happened to raise me," Lenore corrected.

"Come now, kitten. Don't you love me at all?"

"Pervert."

"Can't you come up with something other than that?"

"How's corrupt, lecherous freak sound?"

"Oh, much better," Hiroshi beamed. "More vocabulary words in that one. I didn't pay for an expensive education for you to repeat the same old tired phrases, you know."

"Can you leave now?"

"But I just got here. And someone has to help you take care of the babies, you can't do it all by yourself."

"That's what I have a husband for," Lenore informed him.

"But he has a job," Hiroshi argued. "He spends so much time in the Opera House, scaring those new managers. He can't possibly be of great assistance where the twins are concerned."

"I take care of them in the day; he manages them at night, except for feedings. It works out splendidly," Lenore smiled sweetly. "Now, seeing as how we really don't require any assistance whatsoever, you can leave."

"Chérie, are you up?" Erik's voice called from the hallway.

"Vertical and in a spectacularly foul mood, thank you," Lenore called back.

"I'll be heading out shortly and"- Erik began, entering the room. "Hiroshi. What are you doing in our bedroom?"

"Oh, just giving me a good morning kiss," Lenore snapped.

"You're omitting facts, kitten," Hiroshi sighed. "I dropped by to offer to help watch the twins, and I saw her laying there. She just looked like such a perfect angel, and I wanted to taste those lips, just a little taste of heaven. Since I'll never know what it's like and all."

"The next time you have the urge to taste heaven, try to remember that she's married," Erik snarled, his hands twitching with the desire to strangle Hiroshi.

"We're family, Erik. Certainly you don't mind sharing with family," Hiroshi said casually.

"Families don't share wives," Erik replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"I don't see why we can't. You can't have fun with her while you're at work, so someone should be allowed to play with her. And you wouldn't want strangers entertaining your wife, so it should be family," Hiroshi reasoned.

"Oh, not like I have any say in the matter," Lenore grumbled. "Don't bother consulting me. It's entirely inconceivable that I might not want to be played with while my husband's at work."

"I wouldn't dream of consulting you," Hiroshi beamed at her. "You're just the wife, what you say doesn't really matter."

Tulia walked in that moment, hurrying over to Lenore with a tray containing croissants, fruit, and juice for breakfast. Lenore wrenched the tray out of Tulia's hands, not even remotely worried about the fact that she sent the food flying from the tray.

"Bastard!" Lenore insulted Hiroshi as she began bludgeoning him with the tray.

After a few good solid hits that were sure to leave the man bruised, Erik walked over and caught the tray in mid-swing, taking it from Lenore and handing it back to Tulia. "As much as I was enjoying it, I think that's enough, chérie," Erik claimed, a smile on his face.

"Thank you, Erik," Hiroshi said weakly, looking rather the worse for wear. "I don't know where she gets that violent nature…"

"I get it from the devil," Lenore informed the immortal. "If he hadn't tempted Eve, we mortals wouldn't know a thing about violence."

"You called, darling?" Satan inquired, appearing behind her as a woman with fiery red hair and emerald eyes.

"God no!" Lenore stated firmly. "Go away! I hate my in-laws!"

"But we love you, kitten," Hiroshi replied with a smile.

"Thus the basis of my hate," Lenore snapped.

"You don't really mean that, do you?" Satan said in a sticky sweet voice, twining his arms around her from behind.

"If I had something to stab you with right now, you'd have an answer," Lenore responded, mimicking his sweet tone.

"Let go of my wife," Erik hissed, directing a dark glower at the father of lies.

"Surely you're not jealous?" Lucifer giggled in a very girly fashion. "I'm a girl right now; there's nothing perverted in two girls hugging."

"Tulia, let me have that tray back," Lenore said, extending a hand for this morning's weapon of choice.

Tulia promptly squeaked, dropped the tray, and dove under the bed to avoid having any part in the inevitable conflict between Lenore and Satan.

"Erik, you should get going. You don't want to be late for work," Hiroshi stated, taking a few steps towards Erik as if he intended to herd Erik out of the room, down the stairs, out the front door and into the car.

"I think I'll take the day off," Erik replied curtly, still glaring at Satan.

"Nonsense. There's nothing to fret about; we've got kitten well in hand."

"That's precisely what I'm worried about."

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Hiroshi scoffed. "I brought Chicago along, I know how Lenore adores the movie." Hiroshi pulled said movie out of his jacket. "I thought we could spend the day together, catching up and watching movies while taking care of the twins."

"Well, that's completely out of the question," Lenore said, still captive in Satan's embrace. She had decided to just put up with it unless he tried touching her inappropriately. "Erik hates television, so we don't have one."

"Problem easily solved; we'll go down to Hell and watch it there," Hiroshi shrugged.

"I'm not taking my children into Hell," Lenore snarled.

"You make it sound like a bad thing…I took you to Hell all the time when you were little. And you turned out alright," Hiroshi responded.

"You used to take me to Hell?" Lenore snapped.

"Yes, when you were very, very young," Hiroshi explained. "Too young to remember it. I'll always treasure the memory of you tormenting that jellyfish demon. You kept poking it with the walking stick you stole from Viktor. It was precious."

* * *

Erik managed to keep the amused smile off his face. _Poking a jellyfish demon…even at a young age, I'm sure her intention was to learn all about the poor creature._

"Oh, that's a load of crap! You never took me to Hell," Lenore argued. "You're just saying you did so that I'll go down and watch Chicago with you, giving you ample opportunity to molest me."

"He's telling the truth," Satan contradicted her. "I remember your visits. You were so cute. You used to glare at me whenever you saw me."

"And I'm supposed to believe the devil when he tells me that my damned immortal father took me to Hell because…?" Lenore inquired.

"Because I'm telling the truth, darling," Satan said in a bubbly voice, tightening his embrace briefly for a quick squeeze. "Come on, it'll be fun. We can watch any movie you like. After all, almost every director has sold their soul to me to have their films made. So I have a very wide selection for you to choose from."

"Oh, yeah, right. I can just see Walt Disney offering his soul to have his movies made," Lenore chuckled.

"Sadly I have no rights to anything he did. But all the Disney films after his death have a bit of my involvement."

"No way," Lenore gasped in shock.

"Yes way. It seems when Walt kicked the bucket, the Disney corporation thought they couldn't continue to prosper. So they decided to ask for a bit of unholy assistance."

"No…Disney?" she asked, looking as if the world had just fallen to pieces right in front of her.

"Disney," Lucifer confirmed. "What, did you actually think those films were wholesome works untainted by evil?"

"But…but…the good guy always wins," Lenore protested.

"It wouldn't sell if it portrayed reality and the villains won, now would it?"

"But…the good morals, and the themes of love, and family, and"-

"Once again, necessary to sell the film. The world adores being deceived by illusions."

"I loved Disney films…" Lenore said softly, looking as if she was about to cry. "Does that mean by watching and adoring these films I was, in some twisted and obscure way, condoning lies and worshipping the devil?"

"What does it matter if you were?" Belial asked. "It wouldn't effect whether or not you went to Heaven. God doesn't fault you for what I put on the market."

"Erik, you'll be late for work," Hiroshi pointed out suddenly.

"I already told you, I'll take the day off," Erik replied, wondering when Lenore was going to hit Satan for clinging to her.

"Whatever for? We can handle things here, can't we kitten?"

"To be frank, I don't trust the two of you alone with my wife and children," Erik informed Hiroshi before Lenore could reply.

"Why not?" Lucifer whined. "We'll be good, we promise."

"Your word is worth nothing to me."

"You need to start trusting me. I wouldn't harm a hair on your precious darling's head," the devil tried to reassure him. "And I wouldn't hurt the children whose conception was made possible by my own hands."

"Your definition of 'harm' changes according to your whims," Erik reminded the fallen angel.

"I'm hugging her right now; do you honestly think I'll hurt her?"

"Once again, definition is key," Erik sighed.

"I'll watch him, and make sure he doesn't try anything," Hiroshi promised. "Now get going, you can't let those new managers think they've chased you off."

"And I assume making sure he doesn't try anything would involve molesting Lenore; after all, he can't possibly do anything to her if you get to her first, now can he?"

Hiroshi began looking around the room, feigning innocence.

"What possessed you to visit in the first place? And try not to lie this time," Erik advised.

"I meant it when I said I wanted to help with the children," Hiroshi insisted.

"I asked you not to lie, Hiroshi. Try again."

"Lucas popped into Hell, doing some research to find a gift to give you to congratulate you on the birth of the twins. He said if I was any kind of father to Lenore, I would be helping her take care of them; he always did believe in a supportive family," Hiroshi responded, crossing his arms and giving Erik a look that dared him to call Hiroshi a liar. "And you know he's older than me…"

"Erik, did you know that you have forty two rooms in this tent that are supplied consistently with water?" Gershom inquired, waltzing into the room in his white robe.

"I'm well aware of that fact," Erik replied.

"Is it the elusive Gershom?" Hiroshi gasped in excitement. "How delightful to see you're out of your desert, Gershom. How's immortality been treating you?"

Gershom stared at Hiroshi for a moment, the look on his face saying he hadn't the foggiest idea of what the man was talking about. Then, he came to a conclusion and tentatively patted Hiroshi on the shoulder. "It is truly regrettable that the sun has robbed you of your wits. Perhaps, with rest and an abundant supply of water, they shall return to you."

"Robbed of my wits?" Hiroshi muttered. "You're one to talk."

"Erik…I was under the impression you had only one wife," Gershom commented, noticing Satan for the first time.

"I'm no one's wife, and everyone's sex toy," Satan replied with a mischievous smirk. "Would you like to play, Gershom?"

"Do you have an abundant source of water?" Gershom inquired.

"Enough to satisfy."

"You're clinging to me, and hitting on Gershom. That's extremely disturbing," Lenore commented tersely.

"Aww, didn't mean to make you feel left out," Satan reassured her, leaning his head to rest against hers. "You can play with us, if you like."

"Get off," she hissed.

"No." Mephistopheles nuzzled her neck affectionately.

The next thing Erik knew, he was looming over Satan, who was sprawled out on the floor, and he was holding Lenore close with his right arm.

"Quite an impressive left hook, Erik," Lenore commented.

"That wasn't very nice, Erik," Lucifer snarled, pulling himself to his feet.

"What if master bruises?" Hiroshi added.

"Do you honestly believe I care?" Erik snapped.

"You're very poor at sharing," Satan remarked crossly, dusting off his skirt. With that, he disappeared.

"Good riddance," Erik grumbled.

"He misses you, you know," Hiroshi proclaimed. "The Circle's meeting next month. You should go. You haven't been since"- He cut off abruptly, turning his eyes to the floor.

"Since what?" Lenore prompted. Erik knew she had never considered that he'd actually ever attended any of the Circle's meetings in his lifetime.

"Since he met you," Hiroshi answered her softly.

There was a brief moment of silence as Lenore processed what Hiroshi had told her. "Wait a minute. Are you saying that…Satan's jealous of me? That he doesn't like the fact that Erik spends all his time with me?"

Hiroshi shrugged half heartedly. "He's not used to it. He's the center of every immortal's attention…except a certain desert nomad who will remain unnamed," Hiroshi explained. Said desert nomad was currently marveling over the discovery of the master bath, the forty third room in the tent to have a consistent supply of water. "He sees you as competition, and he doesn't like to lose. And since he won't win by competing against you, he wants you to give him all of your attention. If you do, he thinks that Erik will too, because he'll be the center of your world. And Erik would do anything to make the center of your world the center of his as well."

"Aw. Now I kinda feel sorry for Satan," Lenore said sympathetically.

"Don't," Erik advised.

"But…he just wants to spend some time with you, that's all," Lenore pointed out.

"He just wants to dominate my life, that's all," Erik corrected.

"Well, now that Satan's gone, you can go to work, Erik," Hiroshi said cheerfully.

"And leave you alone with Lenore? Perish the thought," Erik retorted.

* * *

William turned his attentions to Madam Johannson, doing a superb job of keeping a knowing smirk off his face. His cousin Justin wore the most unflattering look of bewilderment at Madam Johannson's request that they set their work aside for a moment so she could make an important announcement.

"Boys, I think you're ready to take over the business. I feel confident that you can handle any situation that might arise. In light of that, I'll be retiring in mid-December. Now I haven't mentioned anything to the cast yet; I don't want them making a big deal of it or anything. So this little announcement stays between the three of us," Madam Johannson informed the cousins.

"The four of us," Justin mumbled bitterly, referencing the Opera Ghost.

* * *

Danielle Turner muttered a few soft curses and insults, her British accent quite pronounced even when she spoke under her breath. "All bloody incompetent," she grumbled. Of course, that wasn't exactly true, and she knew it. But it was her nature to blame everyone else around her for every tiny little problem.

She walked off the stage, despite the protests and pleas from the conductor. Locating her bag, she dug around until she found the bottle of depression pills. Picking up her water, she downed two of the small, purple pills.

No one ever thought divas, models, or other famous people needed depression pills. Danielle knew better. It was always true that the more fame you had, the more depression you dealt with. Because when you were famous, you had an image to uphold. You couldn't be yourself, because 'yourself' wasn't good enough for the public. 'Yourself' was too normal, too much like everyone else, and that meant 'yourself' was corruptible. No, you had to be above drug addiction, physical and psychological illnesses, and all the other evils of society.

Danielle had taken the position of the Opera Populaire's diva two weeks after that Lenore Wolfe girl had given two astounding performances before disappearing from the Opera scene entirely. The girl who had taken the position when Wolfe disappeared, Misty Moreau, had quit after only two weeks in the position. And then, lounging on the beach at the Sandgate Village in Kent, Danielle had received an urgent telephone call from the managers of the Opera Populaire, asking her to take the position of diva.

Danielle was no fool; she knew it was a marvelous paycheck for an easy job that would keep her in the spotlight of high society. Her family's fortune was beginning to run low, and the only way for her to stay at her current social level was to marry a wealthy old man who was likely to kick the bucket within the next few years.

Through odd happenstance, Danielle had been walking in the doors of the Opera House as Misty Moreau was walking out of them. Not even apologizing for having run smackdab into Danielle, Misty had informed Danielle that she was a fool to take the position, as she would never live up to that "perfect little bitch".

And now, about sixteen months into this opera career, Danielle understood exactly why Misty quit. Danielle had spent the first few months listening to the conductor's complaints about her lack of this or that, which Mademoiselle Wolfe had been so spectacular at, what he wouldn't give to have Mademoiselle Wolfe back. And then there were the critiques in the papers, all praising her for her talent, but at the same time noting that she fell short of the level of performance Wolfe had delivered.

While the newspapers had ceased comparing her to the woman, and the conductor never openly mentioned Wolfe to her face, she heard a great deal of the chorus girls and musicians talking to each other when they thought no one was listening, saying that Danielle just didn't have the proper talent for being diva. They speculated that Lenore had been spirited away by the Opera Ghost and was being held captive in his domain. She would never be freed, because she'd had no real gentleman caller to be overly concerned about her whereabouts, and her father seemed to be rather uninvolved in his daughter's life so he most likely hadn't even realized she was missing. Or perhaps he suspected what the opera employees did and knew that any attempt at retrieving her would end disastrously. Poor Lenore Wolfe, the perfect diva, trapped underground and forced to sing for the Phantom at his whim.

Poor Lenore Wolfe? What about poor Danielle Turner? Poor Danielle Turner, who had to listen to everyone compare her to that buggering little wench who'd most likely just run away when she discovered how difficult it was to be in the spotlight. Poor Danielle Turner, who had to suffer through every day being criticized for slight imperfections that Lenore Wolfe hadn't possessed. Poor Danielle Turner, who knew every employee and every patron was silently condemning her for not being that girl.

"Bloody buggering bitch," Danielle muttered as she put her pills away. "Couldn't quit respectably, oh no. Had to go capering off without so much as a word, leaving anyone who tried to take her place to the mercies of those gormless critics." _If only I could find a husband. Then I could tell Madam Johannson that I planned on retiring, no matter how much she wanted me to stick around as the diva._ But until Danielle had financial security, she would just have to soldier on.

* * *

"So, this took forever to get out…College is stupid," Tammy grumbled, glaring at her textbooks. For she had spent far too much of her time immersed in those books as of late, doing homework that seemed to multiply every time she checked the pages in her notes that listed her assignments.

"Well, if you'll be my precious little pet, you wouldn't even have to deal with college," Hiroshi suggested.

"That's true. I'd only have to worry about being raped and eventually murdered," Tammy pointed out. "And if I was murdered, the story wouldn't be finished. Wouldn't that kinda suck?"

"I'd finish it for you," Hiroshi promised.

"SHOCKY SPORK!" Tammy shouted angrily as she jabbed the immortal's side with said spork.

"Thanks for that," Lenore said, looking at the smoking, unconscious lust murderer sprawled out on the floor. "If he'd taken over the story, I have a feeling I would've somehow become his sex slave. Or something along those lines."

"Chérie, Thomas is hungry," Erik called out from the nursery he'd installed beneath Tammy's dorm room. Lenore sighed and trudged down the stairs to do her maternal duty.

"You know, sometimes, I worry about having my characters living underneath my room. Then again, I suppose it could be worse. They could have the twins up here, and then we'd be really crowded in this room. Hell, Hiroshi takes up enough space as it is," Tammy commented. "Anyways, readers, do review. Hopefully my professors will lighten up on the homework a bit and I'll get time to write. But reviews will inspire me to shirk my work for a few hours or so to sit down and write, so…Yeah, reviews equal a higher probability of getting a new chapter sooner."


	49. Chapter 49

Lady Taevyn: The poor boy, everybody hates him, just cuz he's messing with things at the Opera House. Glad you liked Danielle Turner and the whole bit about how Lenore disappeared from the Opera scene.

Lethia: Yes, Lenore felt sorry for Satan. Who saw that one coming?

Der Drache Dame: Well, I'm glad you were amused when Lenore got caught being sneaky and trying to get herself a brandy, lol.

Sabriel: Nope, the boy is not Satan. Good guess though. Glad you like Gershom telling Hiroshi he's lost his wits.

Der Drache Dame: Lol, yes, babies are demanding. I'm delighted you can visualize Lenore beating Hiroshi with a breakfast tray. And, sadly, yes, Disney.

Black Hole Phoenix: I made Satan appear as a woman again, just for you!

Timeflies: Glad to have a new reader aboard! Hope you like this chapter, certainly took me long enough to get it out.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lenore lowered her book for a moment to see what her children were doing. Sonata was still happily cooing to her plush polar bear that she was waving around. Thomas had his sheep firmly in hand, but he was staring directly at Lenore. Which was what he'd been doing for the past hour. She had the distinct impression he was attempting to see how long it would take her to give in to his stare and put down her book to pay attention to him.

Giving him a smile, she put her book back up and returned to reading her Agatha Christie novel, resettling herself on the plastic pad inside the large playpen. Tulia was sitting on the edge of the rocking chair next to the playpen, prepared to jump up at any second should she be called upon for any task.

"Surely you can relax a little bit," Lenore commented, still reading her book.

"I…I should be prepared…in case you need something," Tulia replied timidly.

"Well, I'm fine. Thomas needs someone he can defeat at a staring contest though," Lenore shrugged.

"I am equal to the task," Tulia declared, quickly standing up and preparing to climb into the playpen with Lenore and the twins so that she could fulfill her duties.

Lenore chuckled and shook her head. "I didn't mean that you had to take on the challenge, Tulia. Besides, I think he's a bit busy playing his game with me," Lenore pointed out. "And thus far, he's losing. I'm sure he won't move on to another victim until he beats me."

"Oh. Are you sure I don't"- Tulia began worriedly, freezing with one leg in the playpen and one out.

"Just sit down in the rocking chair, Tulia," Lenore instructed, turning the page in her book.

"Alright. But if you need anything…" Tulia trailed off, stepping out of the playpen and resuming her seat.

The only thing Lenore needed was for the date to immediately go from November 17th to November 18th. For one particular reason. She was expecting Hiroshi to pop in any minute, wanting to celebrate his birthday. And she'd rather not have to deal with that, as Satan was likely to appear as well; Hiroshi would be coming straight from a meeting of the Circle in Hell.

"Would you like me to get you something to drink? A glass of water maybe, or some iced tea?" Tulia proposed.

"Nope. I'd like for you to sit there quietly, as I'm sitting here quietly."

At that moment, Bishop tore into the room with his fish, Sanura hot on his heels. They skidded to a halt beside the playpen, then leapt into it, something Lenore had become rather accustomed to. The cats would go out of the nursery to play for a bit, then they'd come back in to check on the twins and take a nap before departing again. After sniffing him to ascertain his well being, Sanura flopped down beside Thomas, curling up for her nap. Bishop inspected Sonata as best he could while avoiding the polar bear that Sonata was waving around, then trotted over to Lenore, curling up in her lap.

Lenore lowered her book once again, looking straight at Thomas. "Well, you can put your staring contest on hold," she informed him. "I've got a cat on my lap, and I wouldn't dream of disturbing Bishop on your behalf."

"Dinner will be served in half an hour," Tulia noted. "Do you have any requests that I should relay to the cooks?"

"There will be no changes in the menu, and preparations for the meal are to be held until further notice," Lenore stated.

Tulia nodded and scurried out of the room to make certain the cooks wouldn't begin preparing dinner. The only reason Lenore wanted to hold it off was because she wanted to be sure Hiroshi was present before the meal was served. Tonight's menu was comprised of all his favorites, as she knew he would expect to have dinner with her on his birthday, and she had no intentions of going out to a restaurant with the twins. They were too young as of yet, and there was always the possibility that the media would recognize them and latch on for the evening.

Lenore found this all just too stressful. She didn't enjoy spending her day worrying over when Hiroshi was going to show, and it only made things worse that she had to speculate as to who would accompany him. The rotted cherry on top of this nauseating sundae was that Erik was at work, and most likely would not be home until midnight. For Erik was under the impression that someone was attempting to murder the diva, Danielle Turner, due to an impressive amount of accidents that occurred which seemed to be aimed at her. As he found her voice to be the best in the employ of the Opera House, Erik had determined not to let any harm come to her; replacing the position of the diva in the middle of the season was extremely difficult, as any diva hopefuls wouldn't be in the area until the end of the season, looking to take any positions from retiring cast. And Erik said Rosalyn had enough stress on her plate without having to replace Turner.

"The last thing I need is to be alone with Hiroshi. Well, more appropriately, the last thing I need is to be alone with Hiroshi and Satan. That'd be like tossing sour sprinkles on the sundae," Lenore commented to herself. Of course, if she ended up alone with them, it was entirely her fault. She had neglected to mention to Erik that it was Hiroshi's birthday, and Erik had failed to remember due to his concern over Turner's well being. The only relief was that Gershom was gone. Lenore hadn't seen him for the past week or so, and therefore he must have returned to his desert.

Sonata made a myriad of noises in reply to Lenore's spoken words, as if she'd perfectly understood every word her mother said and was attempting to reassure Lenore everything would be alright. "Thanks, Sonata, that makes me feel much better," Lenore responded. In truth, she wouldn't be entirely alone. The twins would be there, even if they would be of no help whatsoever in regards as to whether or not she was molested.

Tulia came dashing back in a few moments later, completely breathless at having run as fast as she possibly could so she would be there for Lenore in case she was needed once again. Bishop opened his eyes and raised his head, looking at Tulia with interested eyes as his tail flicked back and forth in a playful manner. Tulia trembled fearfully in response, hugging her arms and trying to look as invisible as possible.

"Bishop, that mouse is a bit big for you to take on," Lenore told the cat in her lap. "Not to mention that you'd never be able to eat her all by yourself. I don't think you could manage it even with Sanura's help. So there will be no pouncing on Tulia, no biting, no clawing, no batting at, or any other form of hunting and/or playing with your prey."

Bishop lowered his head back to its former position, but he kept his eyes on the mouse as she fearfully crept back to the rocking chair, giving the playpen a wide berth. "Mistress, I'm not fond of the cats," Tulia remarked with a quivering voice. "Couldn't they be somewhere else for the time being?"

"Trust me, the cats will behave."

"But that cat wants to…wants to…to eat me," Tulia proclaimed with a squeak.

"If he tries to, I'll take away his fish," Lenore promised. "Relax; he'll behave."

Lenore looked at the page she was currently on in her novel, realizing she'd lost her place completely. _Well, I couldn't really concentrate on it anyway, what with expecting guests and all._ Lenore closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, stroking Bishop with a free hand and meeting Thomas's demanding stare. "Why don't you stare at your sister, hm? She'd enjoy the attention," Lenore pointed out.

"But you're so much more beautiful, kitten," Hiroshi commented from the doorway. "Even your son knows that."

"Good evening to you too," Lenore said, taking her eyes off of her children long enough to see who had accompanied Hiroshi. "Lucifer decided to join you. Good thing I planned on company."

"Zakai had intended on coming along, but I'm afraid he was busy doing a little reconnaissance for me on the fortifications of Heaven," Satan informed Lenore.

"Za-who?" Lenore replied, having no idea who it was that had intended to come along.

"Zakai. Fourth in the line of immortals at the age of six thousand nine hundred and thirty eight," Satan explained. "He was the one who bathed you in the ceremony before your wedding."

"Oh, him. I do recall him now…though I didn't know his name," Lenore said. "Well, how nice of him to want to visit me."

"His intention was to bring you a gift for the children, but as he's busy, he opted to send it with me," Hiroshi remarked, his hand slipping into the inner pocket of his jacket. He pulled out two bars of solid gold and held them out to her, despite the fact that Lenore was currently sitting in a playpen and was therefore in no position to simply reach out and take the gift at this particular moment.

"Holy"- Lenore began to say.

"Zakai wants you to invest these in some manner that profits the twins. One bar for each child," Hiroshi interrupted her before the profanity following the word 'holy' could slip out of her mouth.

Lenore stared at the gold bars in his hands, her mouth hanging open. For a child less than a month old to receive a bar of gold as a gift was, to her, inconceivable.

* * *

Bishop had been watching the Prince of Darkness carefully, expecting Lenore to chase him off any minute. But she merely stared at Hiroshi stupidly, fascinated by the shiny objects in his hands. For the sake of the children, Bishop would have to take action.

He leapt from Lenore's lap to the edge of the playpen, using the rim to push off of for another powerful leap that propelled him to the doorway, where he latched onto Satan's face with claws fully extended. As the devil began squirming around while frantically shrieking to his friend to get Bishop off his face, Bishop sunk his claws in deeper and began biting at the fallen angel's nose.

* * *

Hiroshi dropped the gold bars and reached for the cat.

"Don't touch Bishop," Lenore commanded, standing up in the playpen. She was rather enjoying the spectacle of Satan dancing around wilding, shrieking like a banshee as a cat ripped his face to shreds.

"Kitten, you can't be serious. You precious feline shouldn't be allowed to get away with such antics. Someone has to put a stop to it," Hiroshi explained, tentatively reaching for the cat again.

"Lay so much as a finger on my cat and you can spend your birthday elsewhere by yourself," Lenore threatened.

"You wouldn't," Hiroshi sniffled. "You wouldn't throw your father out on his birthday. Would you? Surely no one's that heartless."

"I'd throw you out even if you were dying," Lenore retorted. "Tulia, tell the cooks to start preparing dinner. If you can get around Satan, that is."

Tulia dashed off, having to step from side to side as Satan continuously blocked her path in his battle with Bishop. It looked like an extremely odd dance where one partner was just a step behind the other. Though which partner had the lead was anyone's guess. Finally, Tulia danced her way around the devil and disappeared out the door.

"Oh, kitten, please let me help him," Hiroshi pleaded.

Lenore sighed inwardly. She supposed it would have to end at some point. "Bishop, enough," she said sternly. Though quite clearly reluctant about it, her cat retracted his claws and leapt off Lucifer's face, dashing back to the playpen and sitting in front of it facing the two immortals, his tail flicking back and forth at a dangerous pace.

"Master, are you alright?" Hiroshi asked worriedly, pulling out a handkerchief and trying to clean some of the blood off of Satan's face.

"Am I alright? That's the stupidest question I've ever heard!" Satan snarled, ripping the handkerchief from Hiroshi's hands and tending to his wounds himself. When he had cleaned up his face to his satisfaction, he conjured up a dagger and stabbed Hiroshi in the stomach. "Next time, don't listen to your daughter when she tells you not to help me."

Lenore ignored the whining response from Hiroshi as she stepped out of the playpen. She reached in and scooped up Thomas, settling him against her shoulder before reaching for Sonata. Before she could lay a hand on her daughter however, the girl was scooped up. She stood up and glared at Satan, who had used his dark powers to heal his wounds and was currently cradling Sonata in his arms.

"Hand her over," Lenore commanded, holding out her free arm to take her child.

"Can't her grandfather hold her for a bit? I'm only trying to help you out, Mommy," he replied by way of refusal to comply.

"One, I'm not your mommy. Two, you're not her grandfather. Three, if you don't hand her over, I'll let Bishop have another go at you," Lenore snapped.

"You'd have that wild animal attack while I'm holding your little girl? What sort of mother are you? Poor Sonata might get scratched, or I might drop her. Civilian casualties are a part of war, darling. Try to remember that," Satan advised.

"You're positively infuriating. And I don't like you," Lenore muttered bitterly.

* * *

"…and make sure you check the riggings regularly," Erik advised. "That seems to be a favorite of our antagonist, to make it appear a sandbag or backdrop that wasn't properly secured was the cause of what would be the death of Mademoiselle Turner if I weren't too intelligent to prevent it."

Certain he'd gone over everything and left Darius with sufficient instructions, Erik slipped away through the shadows. He walked through the walls until he came to the stables, where he slid out into the open, as no one was to be seen in the stables. Silently thanking Rosalyn's brilliant idea to have a peg set aside in the stables for his hat and cloak (the stable hands had been told to pretend the peg and any items that may appear upon it did not exist), Erik retrieved his things. He donned the wide brimmed felt hat, then flung the cloak around his shoulders, pulling it tight about his frame as he prepared to step out into the rainy, chilly November night.

Erik traversed the streets, getting thoroughly drenched and blaming Hiroshi for his problems. If the man hadn't gone and been born in November, Erik wouldn't have to be heading home right now in this downpour. Of course, Hiroshi had probably planned to be born in November, knowing that it was always a rainy month in Paris and would therefore aggravate Erik to no end due to the fact that he had to be out in this weather to get home so he could protect his wife from Hiroshi's molestations.

He entered the underground car park closest to the Opera House, paying for the use of the park before getting the car. _This vehicle has certainly proven its worth._ It was actually quite convenient to have a car, though he hated to admit that Lenore had been right when they had argued over obtaining a vehicle. He liked knowing that he'd be home in forty five minutes, and that Lenore only had suffer being alone with Hiroshi that much longer.

* * *

"I think your table's a bit shorter than normal," Satan commented, noticing that the legs had been sliced off mere inches from the tabletop.

"Apparently Gershom didn't like it where it was," Lenore replied. "Chairs are for diplomats and royalty, and only a complete idiot would dare use a chair when their social status did not permit it."

"Well, no harm done," Hiroshi shrugged, taking a seat on a cushion with his feet tucked under him. "Reminds me of the old days. If I were garbed in a kimono, I could believe I was back home in Japan. I haven't been in the motherland for centuries."

"Why not?" Lenore asked out of sheer curiosity as she took a seat, placing Thomas in her lap.

"Too many changes," Hiroshi sighed. "I suppose that can be said of the entire world, but somehow it doesn't bother me unless it's my homeland."

Lenore wasn't exactly sure what to say. Another consequence of being immortal, naturally. Having to watch everything you know and love change as you remain the same. It had to be a struggle to keep up with all the changes, especially when you were more than nine hundred years old. _God, to think he was born some time in the twelfth century…I don't know if I could take it, all those years where things are irreversibly changing for the better or the worse._

"Exactly how old are you?" Lenore inquired, realizing that she only had a vague idea of his age.

"Nine hundred and seventeen today," Hiroshi said proudly.

"Wow, you're old," Lenore murmured without thinking.

"Old? I beg your pardon! I happen to be extremely young, thank you," Hiroshi sniffed.

"Not in my book," Lenore retorted. "In my book, you're an archaeological find."

"Who would've thought my own daughter would be so vicious to me on my birthday?" Hiroshi sniffled.

"I can't help it if the truth hurts," Lenore shrugged, smiling slightly. She liked picking on him in this fashion.

"I suppose I'll just have to punish you for being so brutal," Hiroshi smirked, leaning over and pressing his lips to hers.

Before Lenore could get her hands up to shove him off, Hiroshi was jerked away. Lenore gaped at Gershom, who had Hiroshi up against the wall with his scimitar at Hiroshi's neck.

"Villainous, wretched man!" Gershom hissed. "God shall smite you for lusting after another man's wife!"

"Gershom? I thought you left," Lenore said in bewilderment.

"Fear not, Cherith, I'll not let this villain escape punishment," the immortal promised her.

"Um, but that's really not necessary. I mean, I know it was wrong and all, but you don't have to kill him or anything."

"You have no say, Cherith. The law requires this man to be put to death," Gershom informed her.

"But…but…you can't kill him," Lenore argued.

"God has clearly decreed that a man who covets another man's wife is to be stoned to death. However, we are in short supply of rocks; all that we have in abundance is sand and water. Water cannot be wasted on this abomination, and it would be difficult to kill him with sand. So I must slit his throat," Gershom explained. "If it makes you feel uneasy, perhaps you should leave the tent for a few moments."

"I didn't mean it figuratively. I mean you can't kill him. Quite literally," Lenore said. "He's immortal."

"Cherith, I think you should lie down for a while. And drink as much water as possible. The heat of the sun has affected you terribly," Gershom proclaimed.

"Look, I know that God says he must be stoned to death, and I realize that we lack rocks to fulfill that sentence. But shouldn't we let my husband deal with him? After all, he's the one that's been wronged," Lenore pointed out, looking for any excuse to get Gershom to let go of Hiroshi. After all, the sick bastard was a sort of father to her…

Gershom looked at her for a moment, then glanced up at the ceiling. "The vultures do not circle 'round for your flesh yet. We shall let Erik have the pleasure of killing you," Gershom declared. He sheathed his sword and threw Hiroshi back to his seat at the table.

"Honestly Gershom, you don't have to be so rough," Hiroshi grumbled.

Gershom merely sat beside Lenore and glared at Satan and Hiroshi, making certain it was clear that anyone who wanted to touch her would have to go through him first.

Lenore looked up at Gershom with a smile. "You know something? I like you," Lenore informed him. "You're the nicest one of the bunch so far." She couldn't say he was the nicest immortal, nor could she say he was the nicest of Erik's relatives. So she put it as vaguely as possible while still trying to get her meaning across. _He's the only relative of Erik's that I don't mind having around. Well, there's also Darius, I don't mind him…don't really know him, so…but Gershom's very delightful, that's for sure._

"Oh, I'm hurt, kitten," Hiroshi frowned. "You don't find me delightful?"

"Stay out of my head!" Lenore snapped.

"Why are you so terribly offended? You wouldn't be hiding anything from your father, now would you?" he asked with a devious grin.

"You're sick, you know that?" Lenore mumbled.

"No, I'm quite healthy," Hiroshi countered.

"You know what I meant, Jackass!" Lenore hissed.

"Name calling. Not very nice at all," Satan commented. "You reap what you sow. Did you ever consider that Hiroshi's tortures are direct results of your nastiness towards him?"

"No. Because the tortures began before my nastiness," she explained. "Thus, he is reaping what he has sown."

"That's not true," Hiroshi argued. "You hated me before I ever met you. Just because I'm Jack the Ripper. And honestly, who are you to pass judgment on someone you've never met? You can't make assumptions about people based on hearsay alone."

"Those murders aren't hearsay, they're fact," Lenore returned. "And you can't try to say that you didn't kill those women, as you've so frequently proclaimed yourself the culprit. It bothers me; it should bother you! Have you no shame?"

"You're not looking at it from the right perspective, kitten," Hiroshi chided. "You should be proud of your father, not ashamed. After all, is there anyone in this world who hasn't heard of me? I'd say that it's quite an accomplishment, being so well known."

"You need mental help," Lenore mumbled, shaking her head and deciding to let the subject drop.

* * *

Erik stood in the entrance hall, completely drenched and dripping water all over the marble floor. It had taken almost an hour longer than it should have for him to return home, due to fallen tree limbs obstructing the roads, and the thick mud that occasionally trapped the car, both incidents requiring Erik to climb out of the car into the rain and solve the problem.

"Master Erik, you're back early," Gordon stated as he took Erik's cloak and hat. Despite Erik's early return, the dog demon had been standing there waiting for him. He supposed it was just one of those things; dogs always seemed to know when the master of the house was about to walk in the door, and tended to be the first there to greet them.

"Where's Lenore?" Erik inquired, not wasting time explaining anything.

"In the North Wing Parlour," Gordon replied. "Master Hiroshi and Satan are with her, but don't worry. Master Gershom has been keeping on eye on the two of them to ensure nothing inappropriate occurs."

Well, that was certainly reassuring. Gershom would take it seriously if Hiroshi or Satan made a pass at Lenore. _The parlour in the north wing…that's the one farthest from the entrance. No doubt Satan or Hiroshi planned that._ Erik strode through the corridors as quickly as possible, only vaguely realizing that he was tracking mud through the house. About twenty feet away from the parlour, Erik clearly heard what sounded like a television program. _So they brought a television along for entertainment…_

The scene in the parlour surprised Erik. Satan was sitting in a chair, his appearance that of a teenage boy with spiked hair an eye-assaulting color of electric blue, and he was holding Sonata in his arms. Bishop was perched on the back of the chair, glowering sternly at the Prince of Darkness and prepared to attack if Sonata should request it. Gershom was sitting on the floor and intently watching the couch, though his eyes occasionally flicked to the 65 inch flat panel television on the wall. Hiroshi sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table before him. Lenore was stretched out on her back, her head in Hiroshi's lap, fast asleep. Thomas lay beside her, his eyes immediately turning to Erik and fastening on his father. The look he conveyed said that he was rather displeased with his current company and wished the immortals gone. Sanura was curled up next to Thomas, sleeping peacefully with her head resting against his shoulder.

Though Thomas was aware of Erik's presence, the immortals were oblivious to it. Gershom was so intent on watching Hiroshi's actions, and Hiroshi and Satan were watching whatever was on the television.

"Many happy returns to you this day, Hiroshi," Erik said, walking into the room and obtaining their attention.

"Erik, this man is guilty of lusting after Cherith!" Gershom exclaimed immediately, leaping to his feet and putting a hand on the hilt of his scimitar. "By law, he must be put to death."

"He's lusted after her for years, Gershom. I'm quite well aware of that," Erik replied. "As for putting him to death…he's not worth my time."

"But according to God's law"-

"I let him live, hoping that he'll see the error of his ways," Erik lied. "Perhaps, given time, he'll come to realize his mistake and beg God for forgiveness."

"I'll beg God for forgiveness when Hell freezes over," Hiroshi muttered.

"You should be ashamed, Erik," Satan commented, changing the subject of conversation. "Lenore's exhausted; she can't take care of these babies all by herself."

"That's true," Hiroshi agreed. "Maybe you should look into hiring a governess."

"And have to try and explain the demonic staff to a mortal?" Erik chuckled.

"Well, if those asinine bucks hadn't gone and gotten all the does pregnant, that wouldn't be a problem," Satan grumbled. "But I suppose I should've known better than to let young bucks in the same house as young does."

"If you can't hire a governess, there's always family. Why don't you give muffin a call, have her come over and help out?" Hiroshi suggested.

"Muffin?" Erik inquired, raising an eyebrow curiously. Which one of her family members had been given that nickname?

"Oh, you know...the one who co-managed the Opera House for the past twenty years or so…" Hiroshi said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture as if he couldn't possibly be bothered to remember Ember's name.

Erik contemplated it for a moment. It was actually a rather good idea, and it should have occurred to Erik to ask her sister to come help out. There was no disputing that the children left Lenore exhausted; the moment Erik returned from the Opera House every night, she crawled into bed without sparing even a moment to ask him how things had gone at work.

* * *

Lenore yawned and rolled over, deciding that, despite the fact that it was morning and about time for Erik to be leaving for work, she was going to get some more sleep. She had been woken a few times last night for feedings, but in between each, she had slept soundly. _And yet, I feel as if I could sleep for another six or seven hours…God, children are exhausting. I suppose I should get up, can't leave them alone…_

"Don't trouble yourself," Erik said from the bedside. She felt a kiss being placed on her cheek. "I'm leaving for work now; get some rest while I'm gone."

"Kids," Lenore replied, throwing back the covers and starting to sit up.

"I've had it taken care of," Erik informed her. "You'll only be bothered if they need feeding. Now rest." He pushed her back down and pulled the covers up over her shoulders, giving her another kiss before exiting the room.

_Taken care of? Well, guess I should just go with it. I know he wouldn't leave Hiroshi or Satan watching over our kids. It's gotta be someone trustworthy, or he wouldn't even dream of going to work._ Lenore closed her eyes and silently thanked God for this chance to get some more sleep.

She was having a splendid dream about beating the holy hell out of Satan and Hiroshi when she vaguely realized someone was trying to wake her up by very softly calling her name. _Curse you, Tulia_, she thought sleepily as she dragged herself back to consciousness.

"What is it?" she asked the mouse demon standing beside the bed, who looked terribly nervous at having to wake her mistress.

"Sonata, ma'am," Tulia said shyly, casting her eyes to the floor as if she felt deeply aggrieved at waking Lenore. The infant in question merely lay placidly in Tulia's arms, staring at her mother with what could only be termed as impatience.

"I may be your mother, but that doesn't mean I'll come running the moment you want something," Lenore informed her daughter as she placed a pillow beside her before taking the child from Tulia. "Patience is a virtue."

As soon as Sonata was settled on the pillow and Lenore's breast bared, the infant latched on and fed as her mother drifted back off to sleep.

* * *

"Somehow, I get the feeling that you hate me," Ember said as she returned the golden-eyed boy's stare.

Thomas, for his part, merely watched her with a look that conveyed utter dislike, holding his plush sheep closely. If he could speak, Ember had no doubt he would've told her to leave right this instant, thank you very much!

"I'm your aunt, kid. And you'd better get used to me, cuz I'm not going anywhere," Ember informed him.

Tulia appeared in the doorway, hovering there as if she wasn't sure she should get too close to Ember unless absolutely necessary. "Sonata and Madam Dessler are both asleep," she explained, her eyes on the floor. Her head suddenly jerked up, and her eyes were wide with fear. "I should've brought Sonata back! What if she wakes up, and then wakes Madam Dessler? I'm such a failure, I should've known better than to leave the baby with her!" Tulia sagged weakly, clutching at the door frame for support. "I'll get the birch for sure. I don't even want to speculate what Satan will do to me!"

Those fearful wailings were all delivered in a soft voice, which quite impressed Ember. How anyone could manage to be so afraid and keep their voice at such a low level at the same time was beyond her. Then again, demons were extremely talented at doing things normal people couldn't. Shaking her head at the girl's worrisome nature, Ember walked over and patted the girl on the shoulder in a consoling manner. "It's alright, it's not your fault," she tried to assure the mouse. "They won't give you the birch, and Satan won't lay a finger on you. I'll say I told you to leave Sonata with her."

"You would lie to get me out of trouble?" Tulia asked in bewilderment. "But I'm just a lowly little mouse."

"I'm sure I've lied for worse reasons than getting someone out of trouble before," Ember replied with a shrug. Ember walked over to where Thomas was lying in the playpen, leaning over the edge to make sure her face was clearly visible to the boy. "Give the staring thing a rest, Thom. I'm not going anywhere any time soon."

His response was to chuck his plush sheep in her face.

Picking up the sheep, which had fallen into the playpen after colliding with Ember's face, Ember sighed heavily. "And so it is that the feeling Thomas hates me is replaced with the knowledge Thomas hates me." She shook her head at the boy and proceeded to sit in the rocking chair close by. "Fine. Have it your way. But I'm confiscating the ammo."

"Um…ma'am…are you sure that's a good idea?" Tulia inquired hesitantly, taking a step into the room. "If he doesn't get his sheep back, he might cry."

"There's a saying about crossing your bridges when you get to them. We haven't reached the protestation of the confiscation of the sheep. Thus there's no point crossing a bridge we haven't come to, because we might not have to cross it when all is said and done. And if he doesn't care that he doesn't have his animal, then I'm not gonna hand it back to him to use as ammo."

* * *

Sanura sauntered down the hall at a moderate pace. Bishop was currently napping in the stables' hayloft with Fishy. So she had decided to find out what Thomas was up to. He was her favorite of the two kittens, and she tried to make sure she gave him as much time as she did Bishop. It wouldn't be very fair to spend more time with one or the other.

Everything in the hallway was as it should be; the sounds of mice scurrying around in the rooms off the hall were rather tempting, but she resisted the urge to torment them and continued on her way. She reached the nursery and trotted in past Tulia's feet. The mouse squeaked in a very satisfactory manner, leaping into the room and throwing herself as far from Sanura as possible. The woman, whom Bishop said was one of Lenore's littermates, was sitting in the rocking chair.

Sanura was about to jump into the playpen when she noticed that the aforementioned littermate was holding Thomas's friend, Sheepy. Flicking her tale in consternation, Sanura quietly informed Thomas that she'd get his friend back for him. She leapt onto the woman's lap and clamped her jaws tightly on Sheepy's ear, giving it a firm tug to pull it from the woman's grasp. Her attempt failed to dislodge the sheep entirely, but it did help to loosen Ember's hold.

"They got a new cat?" Ember said, asking Tulia to explain Sanura's presence.

"Master Khaldun left that beast with us," Tulia replied, her voice trembling. "Don't let it come near me, it'll eat me!"

"Well, you're certainly a pretty cat," Ember informed Sanura, stroking Sanura's back.

Sanura would not let that distract her, however. Giving another sharp yank, she managed to free Sheepy. Using her amazing speed, she leapt from Ember's lap into the playpen, landing next to Thomas and gently placing his friend beside him. Thomas immediately curled his forepaw around Sheepy's leg and hugged him close.

"Oh, figures. The cat's on his side," Ember grumbled.

* * *

Lenore walked down the hall with Sonata in her arms, feeling much better after having been able to sleep till noon without having to worry about the twins. Sonata had fed for fifteen minute, and then slept on the pillow next to Lenore for the rest of the morning. But now that she and Lenore were awake and moving down the hallway to the nursery, she was babbling happily, looking over the walls in fascination.

"Ember? What are you doing here?" Lenore said in surprise when she saw her sister sitting in the rocking chair.

"I'm being severely disliked by your son, that's what I'm doing," Ember retorted bitterly. "He threw his sheep at me, you know. You should teach him better manners."

Seeing his mother standing in the doorway, Thomas immediately spouted a variety of sounds delivered in a whining tone as he reached his small arms for her.

"Oh don't give me that," Lenore replied tiredly. "You were perfectly safe with Ember." Thomas continued his complaints, still reaching for Lenore as she came further into the room. A few feet away from the playpen, Sonata reached for Ember, her unintelligible baby talk sounding excited to see her aunt once again.

Ember rose and took the girl from Lenore with a smile. "At least one of your children likes me," she commented.

Lenore took the last few steps to the playpen and picked up her son with a sigh. "You're a pain, you know that? Ember's trying to help me out so I won't be so exhausted. The least you could do is act civil and not complain about it. So, no more sheep tossing, understand?"

* * *

"Aww, creampuff, you're overworking yourself," Hiroshi scolded.

"If you don't like me doing my homework, then try doing it for me," Tammy sighed, glaring at her books. There was a pile of homework assignments awaiting her attention as it was.

"You wouldn't learn anything if I did it for you," Hiroshi pointed out.

"That's true, but doing my homework for me could be very educational for you," Tammy replied with a smile.

"Oh? How so?" he inquired, giving her a suggestive smirk to indicate what he was hoping to "learn" by helping her with her work.

"You can do an experiment, like Raghnall, and chart how often the Shocky Spork is applied to your person when you do my homework versus when you don't do anything for me."

"Well that's certainly no fun," Hiroshi mumbled, pouting.

"Uh-huh. Right…SHOCKY SPORK!" Tammy gave a contented sigh as Hiroshi lay beside her computer chair, twitching from his electro-shock personality rehabilitation treatment. "Well, I'm failing one of my classes right now, and since I've got the chapter posted, I'd best go do the homework for that class now. Review, please."


	50. Chapter 50

Lady Taevyn: Get online, read the last chapter (since I have no review for it), read this chapter, and review!! Honestly woman!

Lethia: Lol, leave it to you to be concerned about Thomas's dislike for Ember. It's more that Thomas doesn't like change, and having Ember there suddenly is a big change for him.

Der Drache Dame: Um…I'm lacking a review for chapter 49…and post more of the prequel!

Sabriel: There are no full female members of the Condemned Circle, no. Remember that the youngest member of the Circle is about 160 some years old. Due to this, the time period of the creation of immortals held the view that women were weak. Therefore, no member of the Circle has ever considered turning a woman immortal. They just assumed women would be too weak concerning any battles with Heaven, as well as the fact that they believed women would show mercy and tenderness for the plights of humans that might be plagued by the attentions of the Circle. I know I never really explained that, but it wasn't something that seemed to really need discussing. And the class I wasn't doing well in was Multivariate Calculus. But I managed to pass it, as you'd have found out when you got to the review reminder.

Black Hole Phoenix: Yes, poor Tulia, all scared by the kitties. And dude! Don't go all "rotten little sheep-throwing ingrate" on Thomas. As I told Lethia, he's just upset by the sudden change.

Timeflies: Lol, yes Lenore has a chaotic life. Maybe that's how she actually manages to sleep. I have a very boring life, and I have insomnia problems.

MJ MOD: No, you can't borrow Bishop to claw someone unless we can confirm your victim is a resident of Hell. Yes, it's the boy who wants to hurt Danielle. Why is that? Can't tell you yet. Again, Thomas doesn't hate Ember, merely the change. And Gershom is a wonderful guy. I'm delighted to know you find him funny.

Anonymous#13: Oh, hello. Didn't realize I had another reader. Thank you for finally dropping a review, I do love them.

Yuhi-thedoerofevildeeds: Where to start…Well, let's begin with the first review you have left me. I'm glad you spent 8 hours reading and reached chapter 25. Sorry your butt got sore from sitting there so long. (Trust me, I know what that's like, which is why I have a pillow on my computer chair nowadays.) I'm flattered that you are pleasantly addicted to my story. You thanked me for a sleepless night, muffled fits of laughter, and a long sermon from your mom when she found out you were awake at 1 am reading a story online. You're welcome. Happy to help in any way I can. It's good to know you can connect with Lenore entirely, and that Erik's character is very fresh for you. Thanks for adding me to favorite story, favorite author, story alert and author alert list.

On to your second and third reviews. Obviously you know what happened to Lenore by now. And yes, you're very lucky not to have to wait for the chapter after 27, to find out Lenore's fate. For the third review, yes, I played around with the lyrics of Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical for the songs. The other song in that chapter is "Four Seasons" by Namie Amuro. It comes from the third Inuyasha movie. It's sung almost entirely in Japanese (a few lines are sung in English, but not many), but I found a site translating the lyrics, and I knew it was perfect for my story.

Fourth and fifth reviews. I'm sorry I made you cry at the end of chapter 29. I cried too though, so at least you weren't alone in the cryingness. You didn't ask, but the song in 29 is called "If Only Tears Could Bring You Back" by Midnight Sons. As for Chapter 30 review, yes, it sucks that Lenore has no fiery temper. But, as you may have noticed by now, it's back. Sorry I had to kill her off, but her death was plot enhancing.

The sixth review (for chapter 35), which happens to be the last review I had before posting this chapter. Sorry that you aren't used to sci-fi fantasy stuffs. But, chapter 35 also pulls in a lot of religious references and junk, which can make it a harder chapter to read through. Kinda tedious to read through and stuff if you don't care, or if you already know that stuff. Hopefully, by now, there's been romance enough to satisfy. If not, let me know in your next review. I'll see if I can't up the romance a notch or two.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

It was two weeks before Christmas, and a light snow was falling as Erik walked in the door. Gordon took his cloak, hat, and gloves silently, picking up the temper Erik was in. He stormed up the stairs, down the corridor, and into the nursery.

"You shouldn't have left Madam Johannson as the senior manager," Erik snarled at Ember, who was currently rocking Thomas to sleep.

"Bit late for that, isn't it?" Ember retorted. "What's got you so pissed?"

"Keep your voice down, you'll wake Sonata," Lenore chided, picking up toys and putting them away.

"Rosalyn retired today," Erik stated, coming straight to the point.

"What? She's not supposed to retire until October of next year," Ember said, perplexed.

"I don't like it," Erik snapped. "Something's going on, something I've not been informed of."

"Well, whoever said everyone had to tell you everything?" Lenore shrugged. "I mean, maybe Rosalyn decided she just couldn't take it any longer."

"She's made no mention of retiring early until today, when she turned the business over to those incompetent fools, Evans and Steele."

"Let me guess; they have no intention of paying your salary and they're going to sell Box 5," Lenore speculated.

"And they intend to 'expose' me for 'the prankster' I am," he added bitterly.

"The Punjab lasso stays home, Erik," Lenore commanded before he could even hint that he might treat his new managers to an early demise. "As does the rapier, and any other weapon you might care to use to kill people."

"I'm afraid I can't leave my hands home," he returned.

"No strangling people, either."

"You take all the fun out of work, chérie," Erik chuckled softly.

"As a wife, it's my job. Nice to know I'm succeeding," she said.

"Oh, is that what a wife's supposed to do?" Ember inquired. "I never took the fun out of Patrick's job. Hell, I told him to jail as many people in a day as he could manage."

"I guess there's a difference in marital occupation between a judge's wife and a ghost's wife," Lenore remarked.

"Yeah, that would make sense," Ember nodded sagely.

"You both realize that Mademoiselle Turner's life is all but forfeit with these new managers," Erik proclaimed.

Lenore straightened up from just having closed the toy chest and turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. "Has my husband become so incompetent at being a ghost that he can't manage to keep the diva safe while avoiding the clutches of the new managers?"

"It's not necessarily just the new managers to deal with," Erik snapped, irritated at being called incompetent. "With Rosalyn, the staff was instructed to ignore any and all signs of my presence. These new managers will have the staff all but turning the building upside down to find me."

"You're an immortal. Just mess with the managers' minds so that they do what you want," Ember suggested as she placed Thomas (who, now that Ember had been present every day for almost a month, was quite taken with her) in his crib.

"Ember, that's"- Lenore began.

"Immoral," Erik finished for her. "And Lenore doesn't allow immorality now that I'm a father."

"For shame, Lenore!" Ember scolded. "You sit there and preach to him about immorality and not killing people, and he listens to you. So you're, in a sense, killing the Opera Ghost by telling him not to kill people. I mean, talk about throwing rocks in a glass house."

"Keep your twisted logic to yourself," Lenore muttered. "I'd rather not see Patrick in court because he's ordering Erik sent to jail for killing some idiot."

"Where's your sense of adventure?" Ember teased.

"It went on holiday when I gave birth," Lenore retorted.

"I'm so glad to see you're so concerned about Mademoiselle Turner," Erik quipped. How could these two sit there joking about immorality and him going to prison when the diva was doomed to an early end?

* * *

Danielle hurried to her dressing room the moment the curtain came down. Two performances ago, she had received a box of sinfully rich chocolates with a card that simply read "from a secret admirer". Then at the last performance, she had found her dressing room decorated with a vase of thirteen white roses. The accompanying card had a bit more writing than the previous one, saying "White roses symbolize the belief that the recipient is a heavenly being. From your secret admirer." Needless to say, she was excited to see what she would receive this time.

At first, she was horribly disappointed to find nothing visible on her dressing table. But closer inspection revealed a small card.

_If you would care to dine with me this evening at L'Astrance, I will be waiting for you outside the Opera House on the Rue Glück side. You will recognize me by my white top hat._

_Hopefully,_

_Your Secret Admirer_

Danielle squealed gleefully. First the chocolates, then the roses, and now dinner at one of the most expensive restaurants in Paris. It seemed she had finally attracted the eye of one of the wealthy patrons. She hurriedly shed her costume and put on one of her more revealing formals. With a rather low neckline and a slit up one side to her hip, it would certainly show off a great deal of what her admirer could have if he was willing to commit. Tucking the latest card into her purse where she kept the previous two, she hurried out to meet this secret admirer.

* * *

The boy's iron gray eyes studied the side of the Opera House intensely. Everything William had told him indicated that the diva was a gold digger, searching for a husband and suffering from depression. Such an easy target, so quick to jump at the slightest hint of a large bank account. Subconsciously, he adjusted the position of his white top hat.

After a few moments of shifting from one foot to the other impatiently, he saw Danielle Turner exit the building in a black evening dress, swaying her hips as seductively as possible. Her considerable bosom was almost popping out of the top of her dress. Quite a temptation…for those who enjoyed physical pleasure. He'd never experienced it himself, nor did he care to. It was utterly impractical to engage in such an activity, as there would be very little profit in it for him.

Spotting his top hat, Danielle sauntered over to him, her eyes clearly displaying her incredulity at the fact that he appeared at least three years her junior.

"Good evening, Mademoiselle Turner," he greeted her with a deceptively warm voice. "I'm delighted you chose to accompany me tonight."

"Oh, really, it's my pleasure, Monsieur…" she trailed off, waiting for his name.

"Dunn. Achaius Dunn," he supplied. It'd been so many years since he'd used his surname, but he would never forget it. Too much of who he had once been was attached to that name. He offered her his arm.

"Achaius. That's an interesting name," she commented, looping her arm through his.

"It's Gaelic, and it means 'horseman'," the boy informed her.

"Oh, is your family into breeding horses?" Danielle inquired conversationally as they walked down the street.

"No, more into riding," he answered, hailing a cab.

"I used to ride. But with my new position at the Opera House, I just don't have the time for it anymore," Danielle told him as she slid into the backseat of the taxi that had stopped for them.

Once they were on their way to the restaurant, Achaius decided to play the ace up his sleeve. "I have another gift for you, Mademoiselle Turner," he said, reaching into his coat and removing the long flat box.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," Danielle replied politely, eyeing the box eagerly.

Opening the box produced an audible gasp from the woman, her eyes going wide and her mouth dropping open. Resting on the cushion inside the box was a silver collar studded with fifty eight purple amethyst gems. It was priced around five hundred dollars, so it wasn't overly expensive at all. But it certainly looked like it was.

"It's absolutely gorgeous," she gushed, a slight blush touching her cheeks due to the thought that he would buy her a necklace like this. "Thank you so much, it's so beautiful."

She turned her back to him and lifted her hair off her neck so that he could fasten the necklace around her throat. If the cab driver wouldn't have been there, Achaius could've strangled her to death. The gloves he was wearing would ensure that he didn't leave fingerprints…but strangling was a nasty business, and she might scratch at him in defense. Too much bother really, when there was an easier way…

Dinner turned out just as planned. That is to say that it was a very tedious affair with Danielle attempting to 'modestly' praise herself every few minutes or so, probing into his past and financial situation between the self-flattering comments. Achaius played his part with accuracy, hitting every target necessary to ascertain Danielle's interest in him would not waver. In fact, he played his part so well, that she invited him home to her apartment on the outskirts of Paris.

"I'll just slip into something a little more comfortable," she excused herself, not at all concerned about leaving him in the sitting room. Achaius threw her a seductive smirk to imply that he wanted nothing more than for her to slip out of everything she wore and go to bed with him. She giggled girlishly and disappeared into the bedroom.

While the foolish simpering diva busied herself with changing her clothes, Achaius raided her purse. He had briefly glimpsed one of the notes he'd sent her in it, and he needed to retrieve those. He was pleased to find all three notes together, as it meant he didn't have to worry about digging through her trash bins to ensure no clue was left behind…

By the time she sauntered out in a black and violet satin lingerie set, he was lounging on the couch, perfectly at his ease.

"You know, I need to be sure a man's willing to make a solid, lasting commitment to me before I let him enjoy the whole package," Danielle purred, sitting on his lap and twining her arms around his neck.

"Danielle, my only intention concerning you is eternity," he assured the girl.

Half an hour later, Achaius was in Danielle's bedroom, retrieving the necklace he'd given her. If she'd had any intelligence, she would have realized that amethysts were supposed to help a person achieve his or her spiritual destiny. Well, she'd certainly reached it now. Her body was already cold on the couch, an empty bottle of depression pills on the table beside her.

Achaius returned to William's apartment, humming an old sneak-up tune. If William had done his part, the vase of roses and the box of chocolates Achaius had sent Turner would be gone from the scene. A maliciously delighted smile crossed his face as he stepped out of the cab and erased the driver's memory of this night.

* * *

Lenore was sleeping rather peacefully, dreaming about some unmemorable occasion, when she was shaken awake roughly.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly, thinking it must be something to do with the twins.

"Look at this!" Erik snapped, holding a newspaper inches from her nose.

"I don't care about what's going on in the world," she whined, closing her eyes and rolling over in the hopes that he would take the hint and go away. Instead he grabbed her shoulder and yanked her up into a sitting position, shoving the newspaper into her hands. She started to reach for the bed side table to locate her glasses when Erik jammed them onto her nose. "Ow," she muttered in irritation. "Clearly you find this important."

Erik paced beside the bed while Lenore read the article by the early morning light streaming in the window. When she finished the article, she put the paper aside with a sigh. She knew where this was leading.

"Only a week!" Erik snarled, noticing she was done. "They've been managing for a week, and Turner is found dead."

"Erik, it was suicide," Lenore pointed out. "She swallowed almost an entire bottle of medication. You can't really blame that on the managers."

"Yes, a suicide would be convenient, wouldn't it?" Erik argued. "Then there's no blame to be had, no reason to suspect foul play."

"They'll do an autopsy on the body, Erik. If there was any struggling on her part, they'll know," Lenore sighed.

"I may have to investigate this myself," he muttered, clearly ignoring Lenore now.

"Suicide happens," Lenore calmly informed him. "There's no reason to believe it was a murder, unless the autopsy turns up some sign of a struggle. Besides, who would shove an enormous dose of depression pills down her throat when it would be easier to stab her, or shoot her, or strangle her, or hang her, or any other form of traditional murder?"

"Haven't I told you before that every incident at the Opera would have appeared an accidental death?" Erik inquired crossly, not at all pleased that Lenore refused to support his theory of murder.

"Let's assume for a moment there's a murderer out there who is responsible. While trying to kill her in the Opera House, he would want to arrange it as accidental death so that police wouldn't have any reason to start hunting for him. However, if he decided to kill her at her apartment, why make it look like suicide? All he'd have to do is wear a pair of gloves, stab her with one of her own kitchen knives, avoid getting blood on himself, and then steal a few electronics or something to make it look like a robbery," Lenore pointed out. "It just doesn't make sense."

"Which is exactly why the murderer will escape with no one the wiser!" Erik persisted.

Lenore shook her head; Erik had decided this was a homicide case and there was no convincing him otherwise. "Fine. Do you have a suspect?" Lenore asked.

"No," Erik admitted.

"Then there's nothing to be done about it. The only witness to the murder would be Danielle, who's dead. And unless she went to Hell, you'll have a hard time questioning her."

"She's not in Hell, I already checked," Erik said dismissively.

"Did you wake me up for a reason, or did you just want someone to suffer because you're tortured with the fact that you can't figure this out?" Lenore snarled. After all, she was tired, and this wasn't a conversation she wanted to take part in, as her part would consist of listening to him complain about a lack of clues and witnesses.

"I woke you to give your input. As an outside observer, you might catch a clue I miss," Erik replied, his tone implying that his reasoning should have been crystal clear.

"Well, I did catch something you missed; it was most probably a suicide!" Lenore exclaimed. "If you want to solve a case of sudden death, you have to consider all the options! And suicide is one of them! Keep it in mind."

"I thought we'd already established it wasn't suicide, chérie," Erik sighed tiredly.

"You established it wasn't a suicide, not we," Lenore retorted.

Before Erik could reply to that, Gordon stuck his head into the room, looking utterly puzzled. "Madam, there's a gentleman on the phone for you," he informed Lenore. "It is not one of your brothers, nor one of your nephews, nor Master Hiroshi."

Erik's eyes blazed as he turned a suspicious glare at Lenore. "If you've been having an affair, this might be a good time to mention it," he said in a dangerously soft voice.

"I am not having an affair!" Lenore snapped. "How does some strange man calling me equate to an affair? Honestly, Erik, work on your self esteem. I assure you that no Vicomte de Chagny equivalent could seduce me into running away with him." Lenore was currently in the process of tying her robe belt and sliding on her slippers to take this call. "And anyway, where would I have found a lover? I've been stuck at home with the babies for the past, oh, month or so."

That said, she marched out of the room and down the hall to the room reserved specifically for telephone calls. It was filled with various comfortable couches to lounge on while you spoke, and the table that held the base for the wireless phone also had a pad of paper and a pen for taking messages.

"Hello, Lenore Dessler speaking. How can I help you?" she inquired into the receiver.

"Hello, this is William Steele," the man on the other end greeted her. "I'm one of the managers at the Opera Populaire. The reason I called is that our diva has passed away just recently and we need someone to fill in for the rest of the season."

"Surely you have a plethora of chorus girls available," Lenore said casually.

"Our choir mistress has confessed that none of them are quite up to taking the position. Even our best would need at least a full year devoted to nothing but voice training before she could fill in," William informed her. "It would only be until the end of the season, Madam Dessler. Nothing permanent. In fact, it might not last that long, if we can manage to locate a replacement before the end of the season."

"I don't know. I don't think my husband would like me taking a job," Lenore confessed. She knew if she took the position, Erik would have a fit. Mostly because she was the wife, and the wife was not supposed to be the breadwinner of the family (in his opinion, another of his old-fashioned ideas), but also because it would place her in close contact with other men. Not to mention the fact that Erik believed it was her duty to stay home and raise the twins.

"As I said, madam, it's temporary," William insisted. "I really can't tell you how much it would mean to us. You see, we've got performances sold out through Christmas, but with no diva, we'd have to cancel the shows and refund hundreds of thousands of people. It would be a terrible blow, financially."

* * *

Of course the idea she might have a lover was absurd! Turner's murder was clearly grating on Erik's nerves more than he had thought, to have him reverting to his old highly suspicious nature. Well, he would apologize to Lenore when she returned from taking her phone call.

It was a good twenty minutes before she returned, and more than once he had wanted to creep down the hall and eavesdrop on her conversation. It had taken quite a great deal to restrain himself. "Lenore…I…apologize. It was cruel of me to assume you were having an affair," he managed to spit out.

"No one's perfect," she sighed tiredly, going to her wardrobe to select clothes for the day.

Erik knew she was willing to drop it, so he did. "I must be going now, chérie. Work should be…interesting today."

"Wait up, I'll be ready in ten minutes," Lenore said, flinging off her robe and nightclothes while pulling out a knee-length navy blue skirt and a white dress shirt.

"I beg your pardon?" Erik inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay, maybe fifteen minutes," Lenore sighed, trying to pull on stockings with one hand and hook her brassiere with her other.

"And precisely where do you think you're going today?" he asked, seeing as how she seemed oblivious to the fact that he was baffled by her sudden decision to accompany him.

"The Opera House, of course. Where else?" Lenore mumbled, struggling with the pantyhose and brassiere.

Erik stared at her.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm just going to the Opera House with you, it's no big deal," Lenore muttered. Having just managed to hook her brassiere, she snatched up her blouse.

"You're…what?"

"I'm coming with you," Lenore replied, a touch of impatience in her voice. From her point of view, this shouldn't be a particularly hard concept to grasp.

Erik, on the other hand, found the idea to be near incomprehensible. "I suppose I'd like to know why, if you'd be kind enough to explain it to me."

"Is there a reason I can't?" Lenore said evasively, still struggling with her pantyhose while trying to slip into her blouse.

"There's no reason you can't," Erik responded. Which was true enough; there were reasons why she shouldn't (such as the simple fact that it would be wrong to leave the twins home all day without her on hand for feedings), but no reason why she could not. "I never said there was a reason you couldn't. I'm asking you to tell me. And soon enough, I won't be asking."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Of course not," Erik said reasonably. "It's just that, eventually, I'll get tired of asking and will begin demanding. So will you tell me why you should go to the Opera House with me instead of staying at home with the twins like you should be doing?"

Lenore swore softly when she discovered her struggles with the stockings had resulted in a rather noticeable run in the nylons. "Because I'm obligated," she mumbled, staring pointedly at the floor.

Erik truly felt this was getting him nowhere. "What you are obligated to do," he said, beginning to lose his temper, "is stay at home with the twins. Now stop this foolishness."

"So all I'm good for now is to stay home and raise kids?" Lenore argued, throwing the ruined stockings at him. The crumpled ball of nylon fell short of its target, though, as she hadn't put too much effort into her toss; she was too busy locating another pair of stockings.

Erik let out a hissing sigh. "I'm not going to get into another argument with you. I've got to go to work."

"You're not leaving without me," she contradicted.

"Tell me why," he demanded.

"Because I said you're not," she snarled.

"I'm not taking you with me unless you give me a reason," he said hotly, glaring.

"Why do I have to have a bloody reason? You go to work, leaving me here to have those children suck the life right out of me all day! And when I want a ride somewhere, you need a fucking reason to give it to me! How about the fact that I'm your wife? How about the fact that I bore those children for you? How about the hours I spent in agonizing pain bringing them into the world? Or maybe the fact that I've devoted myself exclusively to their well-being for almost two months straight?" she shouted, chucking one of her shoes at him.

He ducked the shoe and stood where he was resolutely. "Lenore," he began, sighing again, "I realize you've done all those things, but the twins still need you, unless you have a very good reason for leaving them. So you need to tell me why."

"Because I have a job, that's why," she snapped, looking in any direction other than his.

"Oh. I s - a job?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I'm really asking you to take me to the Opera House so I can have mad, passionate sex with every male cast member," she said sarcastically.

"How in the world - what in the world are you doing with a job at the Opera House?"

"What I'm doing is exactly what you trained me to; sing," Lenore responded, pulling a pair of knee-highs out of the drawer and hurriedly tugging them on.

Erik stared at her. "I'm going to have to have a word with those managers..." he grumbled.

"Whatever for?"

"For even entertaining the idea that you'd take the open diva position."

"They didn't simply entertain the idea; they sold it," Lenore retorted. "And don't even think of leaving me here. I'd just call a cab and show up late is all."

Erik snorted and left the room. Perhaps a quick word with Ember would be beneficial.

* * *

Bishop stretched and yawned, waking up from a pleasant nap in Sonata's cradle. She herself seemed to be just waking. Lenore's littermate was busy with Thomas at the moment, but he knew she'd be taking care of Sonata soon enough.

Erik walked in, and Bishop knew it was one of those moments when hiding under the bed was the safest thing to be doing. Obviously Erik and Lenore had rubbed each other's fur the wrong way again.

"Your sister is…" Erik snarled at Ember, clearly searching for an adjective.

"What did you do to piss her off now?" Ember replied.

"Why do you assume I'm the one at fault?" Erik snapped. "She took the diva position at the Opera House!"

"Wait, she what?"

"Yes. She went and got herself employed," Erik hissed. "And now she expects to go into work and leave you here to take care of the twins, never mind the fact that you are incapable of feeding them."

That was all Bishop needed to hear. As Erik and Ember continued to converse, Bishop mewed softly to Sanura, who popped up out of Thomas' cradle. Within seconds, they were racing into the master bedroom. Lenore was finally located in the master bathroom, brushing her hair. Her shoes were right beside her stockinged feet. Bishop leapt up onto the counter, obscuring Lenore's reflection and pawing gently at her arms as she attempted to continue brushing her hair.

"Bishop, stop that," Lenore sighed. "I have to be ready to go to work."

Down below, Sanura rubbed against Lenore's ankles, one of Lenore's shoes in her mouth.

"Sanura, not now," Lenore chided, looking down.

Sanura dashed off with the shoe as if possessed by the devil. Lenore dropped the hairbrush on the counter and chased after her.

Bishop picked up the hairbrush and leapt to the floor, then scurried away with the hairbrush. He decided he would hide it in the barn, as she would never think to look for it there. After all, she couldn't leave the kittens home all alone! Thomas and Sonata needed her.

* * *

"Sanura! Get back here!" Lenore gasped, skidding to a halt as she watched Sanura disappear around the corner at the end of the corridor. She clutched the doorframe she had stopped beside to support herself as she caught her breath. It just so happened that she stopped at the door of the nursery.

"What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?" Ember snapped, coming over to Lenore while glaring fiercely.

"The cat stole my shoe!" Lenore explained.

"I'm not talking about the cat. Taking the diva position! What about your kids? You can't leave them here alone!" Ember pointed out, the look on her face clearly communicating her desire to smack her sister upside the head for such foolishness.

"I wasn't going to," Lenore replied indignantly. "I thought you and the twins could come along with us to the Opera House. You can watch over them in the diva's suite, and if they need a meal, just come get me off the stage. That manager, Steele, said it would be perfectly alright and that they were willing to accommodate me in any way necessary."

"You gave me the distinct impression you were leaving the children home, chérie," Erik remarked angrily.

"I never said I was leaving them home," Lenore returned. "And you didn't ask. So don't try to blame any misunderstandings on me. Ember, get the kids dressed and ready to go. I've gotta go find that cat."

"You took the position then, kitten?" Hiroshi commented, appearing in the corridor behind her. "Shouldn't you be concerning yourself with raising children instead of taking"-

"Shut up," Lenore interrupted. "You're the damn idiot who gave the managers my phone number. Surely you knew what they were going to ask."

"Of course. But I was expecting Erik to pick up the phone. Which would have provided some entertainment for the day," Hiroshi replied. "There was the possibility that you'd get to take the call, naturally, but I assumed you'd flatly refuse them, knowing how livid your husband would be if you accepted."

"You live to create trouble," Lenore snarled.

"Yes. If I lived to create peace and harmony, the world would be so utterly boring," Hiroshi smirked.

"But things would certainly be easier," Lenore muttered. "If you'll excuse me, I've a cat to catch and a shoe to find." That said, she scurried off down the corridor.

"Kitten needs some common sense," Hiroshi sighed, shaking his head sadly. "Taking that position."

"Something that wouldn't be an issue if you hadn't given those blasted fools our number," Erik snapped. "I should've followed my instincts instead of having a phone line installed."

"Oh, muffin, you're looking splendid today," Hiroshi remarked, finally noticing Ember.

"Well, you look as if you're in serious danger," Ember retorted, noting Erik had that murderous gleam in his eye. "But don't let that stop you from hanging around."

* * *

"Woot! Finally got another chapter written and posted. And my classes are done for the semester," Tammy announced joyously. "I've been home from college for two weeks now. I woulda had the chapter up sooner, except my computer tried to commit suicide on finals week, so I had the reinstalling of windows and junk like that to do."

"I believe you're rambling on, creampuff," Hiroshi noted.

"Hmm. I guess I am. And I shall continue. I passed all my classes this semester! Yay!!" Tammy cheered.

(Through a rather strange, long, involved process that Tammy chose not to bore the readers with, Gershom had appeared outside of the story, Erik got mauled by the authoress for stealing her Pepsi, and Hiroshi had acquired the Shocky Spork.)

"We shall celebrate by feasting," Gershom proclaimed.

"Miserable wench," Erik muttered, glowering at Tammy.

"I love you too, Erik!" Tammy beamed.

"And what about me, creampuff?" Hiroshi pouted, making sure the Shocky Spork was quite visible.

"Um…oh…uh…I love you just as much as I love Erik," Tammy lied. She observed that this statement was inciting Erik's anger, as he was a rather jealous person and didn't like the idea that she might have even a shred of affection for Hiroshi. "To spare you readers the violence that will begin momentarily, I will ask that you review before I leave to find a safe place to hide until the dust settles. Come on, Gershom, we're gonna find a nice oasis very far away from here and have a long chat over water and flatbread."


	51. Chapter 51

Lady Taevyn: …get caught up, will you?

Lethia: Gee, how I wish I had a review for chapter 50. Hopefully that hint wasn't too subtle…

Der Drache Dame: Okay, needing reviews for chapters 49 and 50 now. I suppose I could let it slide if you post more prequel…

Sabriel: Yes, the boy finally has a name! But we won't see him in this chapter. I was going to have a bit with him at the end, but that would make it too long.

Black Hole Phoenix: Yes, Ember has to sit at the Opera House watching Lenore's kids while Lenore has all the fun onstage…if you can call it fun…

MJ MOD: No, Achaius isn't one of the Riders of the Apocalypse. That was a damn good thought though…wish I'd thought of it…

Anonymous#13: Write a sequel to this? God, that could drive me nuts…and keep me very busy. Sorry the last chapter seemed slow. I needed to get some plot enhancing done, such as Rosalyn retiring, Turner dying, and Lenore taking the diva position.

Adusiriel: Glad I made your night. Hope you like this chapter.

The ness-ness: Well new reader number 1, your penname scares me, lol. The friend that I based Christi off of is named Vanessa. I know, you're not her, but…that name has scary memories attached to it for me and ness-ness makes me think of Vanessa. But don't let that stop you from reviewing. I'll be alright. No, you can't have Gershom. He's mine. I'm very possessive of my immortals. Dunno why. As to what's going to happen at the Opera House, read on. The boy is Achaius, and that's all I'm telling anyone at present. He won't do anything to the twins…at least, not in the way you mean.

Wings of Glory: Hello new reader number 2! Glad to have you onboard. Don't be scared that you can see a lot of yourself in Lenore. It's good that you can relate to the character, because that means I'm doing a good job. (I mean, I'd really suck if no one could relate to my main character, right?) I am delighted to hear that Hell and the immortals (particularly Hiroshi and Raghnall) amuse you.

Hpt4Gerry: Greetings new reader number 3!! I'm sorry you find parts of it weird and you're not sure whether or not you like the weird stuff. I'm a weird person, so weird stories come out of my head and into Microsoft word. Anyways, I'm so pleased that you find Erik to be a little evil!

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Justin Evans sat in the highest box at the back of the house, staring at the young woman his cousin William had contacted within hours of learning about Turner's death. He wasn't sure why they needed this particular woman; there were enough chorus girls who could have managed to take over the role of diva. True, none of those girls were as good as Turner had been, but it would've been easier to replace Turner with a girl who was already employed at the Opera House rather than to hire another one.

"Trust me, Justin, you won't be sorry," William whispered. "Lenore Dessler has a bit of a history with Opera."

"I've never heard of her," Justin commented with a touch of bitterness. Not only were they hiring another cast member, but the "Ghost" had left them a rather nasty little note detailing what disasters might befall them if they didn't find a replacement for Dessler as soon as possible.

"Oh, I think you have. Her maiden name is Wolfe," William replied.

"THE Lenore Wolfe? The one who disappeared about a year ago?" Justin inquired incredulously. Lenore Wolfe's extremely brief Opera career was legendary; no one in living memory could have a voice as sweet and perfect as hers, it was said.

"It seems she disappeared because she had to plan her wedding," William explained.

Justin bit his lip as he tried to recall a wealthy family by the name of Dessler, but all he drew was a blank. "I don't think I've ever heard of a Dessler before," he muttered under his breath. It was actually quite an oddity; no affluent father such as Wolfe's would allow her to marry someone below her station.

At that point, Dessler began singing. Just a few notes were all that Justin needed to know that she'd perform flawlessly. Hell, she'd probably rehearse flawlessly as well. It would be a horrible shame, perhaps even a crime, to have to replace her. Of course, if they could get rid of their unfriendly poltergeist, they wouldn't have to replace her at all.

* * *

If Lenore hadn't expressly forbidden it, Erik would've strangled those two blasted fools who called themselves the managers. They sat in their little box, contriving pathetic plots to get rid of him so that they could keep Lenore as the diva. And Erik, standing in the wall right behind William Steele, was having a considerably difficult time of restraining his hands from sliding open the panel, reaching through, and ending Steele's annoying existence. In fact, if he hadn't been able to hear Lenore's voice echoing out from the stage, the two managers would have been dead the first moment they mentioned ridding themselves of Erik's presence.

_Damn her. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she planned this. As if she were testing me, giving me every reason to eradicate these half-wits. They have already exhausted my patience. Were it not for her presence here, the Opera House would be in need of new management._

Knowing he would be unable to resist the temptation should he stay much longer, Erik slipped off through the walls to listen to the chorus members standing in the wings. They always managed to entertain him, as he seemed to be their favorite topic of discussion.

"…disappearing in the middle of the night to plan your wedding? It's just a little too suspicious, that's all," one of the girls was saying to a group of about ten other girls in the corps de ballet.

"Maybe…" a second girl mused thoughtfully.

"Maybe what, Sarah?" the first prompted.

"Well…maybe she married the Phantom," Sarah suggested.

A collective gasp of disbelief and shock issued from the ballet girls. Erik, on the other hand, smirked. Sarah was entirely correct, and it pleased him to know that at least one of these silly girls thought it possible that a woman might decide to share her life with the dreaded Phantom of the Opera.

"That's ridiculous," the first said dismissively. "I mean, come on. The Phantom hides below the Opera House for a reason, Sarah. And it's certainly not for his health. Did you ever read the novel? He's supposed to be seriously ugly. No nose, eyes sunken into his skull, skin a nasty yellow, skeleton-thin frame; not the kind of man a girl marries."

How utterly ignorant of the girl. Clearly she only remembered the description from Leroux's novel as was given by Joseph Buquet. And while it was true that Buquet had glimpsed Erik, the encounter had been so brief that Buquet had chosen to fabricate a few elements of the tale to make it more interesting. Erik did not dispute that he lacked a nose, nor that his eyes were sunken into his skull, not even that he'd been as thin as a skeleton. But his skin had never been yellow.

"Shh! Don't call him ugly, Claudia," Sarah hissed, glancing around fearfully. "What if he hears you?"

"What if he does? I'm only telling the truth," Claudia snapped back. "And if he doesn't think it's true, then he should just show himself and prove me wrong." There was a brief pause as the ballet girls held their breath, waiting for the Phantom to materialize and deliver his wrath upon Claudia. "Like I was saying, Lenore couldn't possibly have married him."

"But she's wearing a wedding ring, and she has those two babies," Sarah argued. "You insist that she was kidnapped by the Phantom. And if that's the case, then clearly she married him and had his children."

"Not necessarily," Claudia contradicted. "He could have raped her and gotten her pregnant. In the meantime, Turner took over as the diva, and he's finally gotten annoyed with Turner. So he removed her from the scene, replacing her with his precious Lenore. But Lenore can't possibly leave the babies alone under the Opera House, so she had to bring them up with her. And naturally, she wouldn't want anyone to know she'd been raped and her children were bastards. Think of the shame! So she put a ring on her left hand and gave a different last name."

"Or Lenore fell in love with the Ghost and married him," Sarah muttered, crossing her arms and scowling at Claudia.

"If she married him, it was only because he forced her to," Claudia replied.

A smile of pleasure crossed Erik's face. It seemed he had found the first victim for his plans to get the management back under his control. _And when I've accomplished that, I'll see to it that Sarah is promoted to leader of a row._

_

* * *

_

Lenore was relieved to get a few minutes of rest during the rehearsal when the ballet girls had to polish a dance number. She stood in the wings, thinking to herself that rehearsals surely hadn't been this tiring before. Then again, she had children to suck the energy out of her nowadays.

Just as she was about to turn her back on the stage to go check up on the twins, a sand bag crashed to the floor near one of the dancers. Lenore's eyes narrowed as the incident was investigated. As she expected, no one had been near the rope connected to that particular sand bag, and no explanation for its sudden plummet could be found.

"Erik," she mumbled under her breath. A certain Opera Ghost was in for quite an earful when next she saw him.

"I told you!" a second girl snapped at the one who had almost perished. "You just had to go and insult the Ghost, and now he's going to take it out on all of us. It's all your fault, Claudia!"

"It was purely an accident," one of the crew members called down.

"Accident my ass," Lenore said loud enough for everyone to hear. She walked out onto the stage, looking at the girl named Claudia. "You insulted the Phantom, Claudia? What exactly did you say?"

"Nothing," Claudia mumbled, looking warily up at the catwalks, as if she expected another sand bag to target her.

"She said he was ugly," one of the chorus members squeaked, glancing around fearfully.

"And how would you know, Claudia? Have you ever seen him?" Lenore challenged. "Don't think I haven't heard all the rumors about my disappearance. It just so happens that I did manage to catch a glimpse of the Opera Ghost. That's why I ran off. I could tell that he was searching for the next Christine. And I didn't want to be the one he chose."

Sure, she was lying. But they didn't know that. The corps de ballet stood around her with their mouths hanging open, clutching whoever was closest as if they feared Erik was about to snatch up a girl and whisk her off into the dark underground.

"That's why I got married as quick as I could," Lenore continued. "I knew I wouldn't be safe from him until I had a ring on my left hand. Though I guess I'm not really safe at all. If the Phantom should decide that one of you has the potential to surpass me…well, let's just say that it didn't end well for Carlotta."

At that moment, the managers reached the stage.

"Are you alright, mademoiselle?" Monsieur Evans asked Claudia.

"It was the Opera Ghost!" one of the girls screeched.

"He's looking for another Christine," a chorus member chimed in.

"He'll kill us all!"

The terrified screams and pointless repetitions of "he'll kill us all" began, and Lenore had some difficulty suppressing a little smile. Unbeknownst to the cast, she was their insurance that Erik would keep his pranks from becoming lethal. Of course, if these new managers would just pay his salary, the cast and crew wouldn't even have to worry about it.

"Surely," Lenore said very loudly to get the attention of the cast and crew, forcing them to be quiet to hear her words, "the management is making every effort to accommodate him for our safety."

"Madam Dessler, there's no reason to give in to this man's demands," Steele informed her tersely. "That's all it is. Some man, trying to scare us into thinking he's a ghost so that we'll do what he asks to keep you all from harm. Don't worry, Madam Dessler. We'll catch him and put a stop to this."

"Oh, whatever you say," Lenore scoffed. "If it is a man, don't you think he's rather old? I mean, Madams O'Malley and Johannson humored him for twenty years or so. Don't you think they would've been able to expose a simple man during all those years? Besides, even if it is a man, it's better to simply give him what he wants, isn't it? Under the previous management, there was only ever one incident. The murder of that man, Felix Deville. But under your management, we've had Turner's suicide, and now this little attack on poor Claudia, all within twenty four hours. Makes one wonder what's next."

* * *

Ember sighed tiredly. She was certain she'd heard the sound of a crash from the stage. If she hadn't been stuck in the diva's suite with the twins, she would've gone to see who Erik's victim had been. Strangely enough, both infants had giggled at the sound of the crash. _Erik's children through and through, it would seem._

A few minutes later, Lenore stormed into the room. "He's so dead when we get home," she hissed angrily.

"So who was the victim?" Ember inquired.

"Some chorus girl named Claudia. Apparently she called him ugly."

"And what accident befell her?"

"A sandbag hit the floor next to her," Lenore said dismissively. "But he knows better than this. If it had hit her, it could've killed her. And I specifically told him no murders."

"So, he dropped a sandbag near her because she called him ugly?" Ember sighed.

"_Because she insists that I raped Lenore or forced her into marriage. And because I need the management to come to terms with my existence,_" Erik's voice echoed out of the wall.

"Concerning Claudia, learn to tolerate the vicious rumors people like to spread. Concerning the management, find other ways to bully them into doing your bidding," Lenore grumbled.

"_But this method is so much fun. It also happens to be more effective,_" Erik informed her.

"Oh, then I suppose you'll be targeting me at some point," Lenore sighed.

"_Never,_" Erik hissed.

"You'll have to," Lenore argued. "Think of how suspicious it will look. Targeting everyone except the diva, who happens to be consistently telling the managers to humor you."

"She's got a point, Erik," Ember commented. "So either target her as well, or find another persuasive technique." Without a doubt, Lenore and Erik had to be the most dysfunctional couple in history. A few simple words or actions could start rather intensive arguments. Having lived with the two of them for almost a month to help with her niece and nephew, she'd seen it many times, and tried to play the peacemaker whenever they got into their squabbles. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes the fight only ended when one decided to submit to the other.

"_I'll not attack my wife,_" Erik snarled.

"Then you'll stop attacking everyone else," Lenore said firmly.

"_I will not. I will handle these moronic managers as I have handled all of the other idiots who refused to do as I asked._"

"Bloody man."

"_Damn wench._"

"What spectacular examples you two are setting for your children," Ember remarked.

* * *

"Madam Dessler, you can't mean that," Justin gasped.

"But I do," Lenore replied carelessly.

"Take a percentage out of each day's wages to pay this alleged Opera Ghost?" Justin said incredulously.

"Yes," Lenore sighed. "That's exactly what I want you to do. And if you won't reserve Box 5 for him, then I'll buy it for every performance. Simply take the price of the box out of my wages."

"Do you have any idea what you're asking?"

"I thought I made it quite clear what I was asking," Lenore retorted.

"If I agree to these insane requests, you'll be receiving an extremely small sum for your services," Justin tried to reason with her. "Additionally, there's no need to go to such lengths for him, whoever he is. The man must simply come to terms with the fact that he can't trick us."

Lenore was thankful that Steele wasn't present. Steele was the manipulative of the two; Justin Evans was far too stupid to play mental games with her. She also had the distinct impression that Evans was beginning to believe that Erik truly was a ghost,no matter how much he claimed otherwise. He should be easy prey for Lenore.

"I'd like to remind you that my income is no concern to me; I'm married to a very wealthy man, I assure you," Lenore said tersely. "No, I'm more concerned with the Ghost. Yes, the Ghost, who is not a man. Not in the sense you mean the word. The Ghost is male, I won't argue that. But I've seen him, Evans. It was the night of my second performance in Carmen. The night I left. I realized shortly after midnight that I had lost an earring somewhere backstage. After the performance was over, I changed and went to dinner. I assumed I'd left the earring on the vanity in my dressing room, but it wasn't there, so I had to have lost it somewhere between backstage and the diva's suite, you see. So"-

"What were you doing looking for a silly little earring in the middle of the night?" Justin interrupted. "It could've waited till morning."

"No, it couldn't, because the earring belonged to my late mother, and those earrings are the only things I have to remember her by," Lenore lied. "Anyway, I was looking for my earring backstage, and I'm sure you know how it is at night. So dark, you can't see your hand in front of your face. So I took a little flashlight with me.

"I'd been searching only a few minutes when I got the distinct feeling that I was being watched. I turned to look behind me, but nothing was there. I glanced up into the catwalks, and that's where I found him. A black shade with golden blazing eyes, staring at me. Of course, I didn't realize at first. I thought it was a stage hand, just having a laugh. So I asked him to come down.

"He simply walked through the railing, off the catwalk, and into empty air. And that's when I knew it was the Opera Ghost. He descended slowly, and I couldn't tear my eyes away, couldn't move, as if I'd been paralyzed. He landed feet in front of me, the shape of a man in a black cloak with a wide brimmed black hat. There were no feet beneath the cloak, which hovered an inch off the ground. No head that the hat rested on. Just two yellow eyes burning beneath the brim. Almost seven feet tall, he loomed over me.

"After staring into my eyes for a few minutes, he floated towards me. The stench of death filled my nostrils, and the cold of the grave surrounded me. I heard a voice whispering in my ears a list of all the sins I'd ever committed, of all the secrets I hid. He stopped only a few inches from me. The earring I was searching for appeared in the air between us. I took it, thanking him for finding it, thinking him to be friendly.

"A cold draft that felt like hand brushed against my cheek. He spoke, one simple word delivered in a whisper that echoed out into the empty house: Christine. The Phantom wanted me, saw Christine in me somehow. I felt slimy, dead hands all over my body, some ripping at my clothes, others trying to drag me down through the stage floor as if I were as insubstantial as the Ghost before me. Holding onto my flashlight for dear life, I tried to scream. But one of those horrible hands wrapped around my throat and I couldn't make a sound.

"I couldn't scream for help, couldn't stop those hands from touching me. Fear consumed me, and thank god it did. My fear broke his hypnotic spell and I found I could move again. I ran for my suite, grabbed some clothes, tossed them in a bag, and fled for my life."

Justin sat behind his desk, his eyes wide and his mouth half open, terror written all over his face.

_Oh, this is priceless. I can't believe he thinks I'm telling the truth._ "As you can see, the Opera Ghost isn't someone you want to cross," Lenore stated. "It's why I'm more than willing to take a pay cut, provided the money goes towards pacifying the spirit that haunts this place."

"Madam…Madam, you must get out of here as quickly as you can," Justin whispered. "Before he comes for you again."

"I'll be fine," Lenore said confidently. "Christine wasn't married; this ring keeps me safe from him mistaking me for his beloved chorus girl." She paused for a moment. "My concern is for the other girls. The feeling of those hands on me…no one should have to suffer that, no one should have to be as afraid as I was."

* * *

Tonight's performance of Puccini's La bohème was going to make Justin and William the talk of Paris. Justin knew it; Lenore Dessler's mysterious reappearance to the opera scene would be attributed to his cousin and himself. They would be praised for managing what Madam Johannson could not, for returning the most beautiful voice to the public.

As they settled themselves in a private box to take in this great triumph, Justin debated telling William what Lenore had requested of him earlier that day, of relating her encounter with the Ghost.

He was seriously considering that they just might be dealing with the supernatural. As such, he had frequently kept recalling Madam Johannson's words. _"Do the dead know they're dead?"_ If the Ghost didn't realize he was dead, he certainly seemed to have some idea that time had passed. For he asked for Euros, not francs. Perhaps he assumed that only a few years had gone by, not one hundred and fifty, and the change in currency was due to the constant changes of France's government that had characterized the 1800s.

If they were dealing with a lingering spirit, what was to be done about it? The Ghost must have some reason it was still there, something it needed fulfilled. Though he consistently requested his salary and the reservation of Box 5, it was obviously not what he needed to move on. _We could hold a séance; that way we could find out he needs and help him. If he refuses to tell us and will not allow our help, I suppose we could try an exorcism._

Deciding to share Lenore's earlier requests and swap theories on how to handle a spirit, Justin leaned over to address William. But just then, the house lights dimmed and the curtain came up. It would simply have to wait until intermission.

When Lenore's voice was first heard offstage, the audience seemed to lean forward as one, each member silently willing the character of Rodolfo, played by the lead tenor Ignazio Ricci, to get to the door and open it just a bit faster than he was going at current. When Lenore was revealed, the patrons gasped loudly in surprise and delight. Dessler retained her composure as if nothing had transpired.

Rodolfo invited Mimi inside, and she refused. He pleaded with her again, and that's when it started. Lenore gave a startled cry as something appeared on the floor next to her feet and scooted out onto the stage. It was an old wind up monkey figure, wearing Persian robes and a fez, and banging miniature cymbals together. Ignazio stared at it for a moment, utterly baffled, and then began to chase after it. After a few minutes of running around the stage like a complete idiot (to which the audience chuckled, finding amusement in this little interruption), he captured the toy and threw it offstage.

The performance resumed, going back a few lines to when Rodolfo opens the door and invites Mimi in. But the moment Rodolfo repeated his invitation to enter the room, the monkey toy returned, once again shooting past the ankles of a startled Lenore. Ignazio went after it again, cursing at the thing in Italian. This time, he threw it into the wings on the side of the stage opposite from Lenore.

Taking it from the same place as before, Ignazio sang the line inviting Mimi into Rodolfo's abode with a confident smile. It seemed the monkey was not thwarted, for the little toy once again attempted to wheel onstage past Lenore. (How it had possibly gotten from one side of the stage to the other in such a short amount of time was anyone's guess.) It seemed Lenore had suspected this would happen, and she quickly shot her ankle out into its path. The monkey ran into her ankle, rebounded a few inches, and motored forward smack dab into her ankle once again.

As the monkey repetitively collided with her ankle, Lenore began a coughing fit, and Ignazio picked up his lines, asking Mimi if she was unwell. Thankfully, the rest of Act I passed without interruption.

_The Ghost will ruin this performance, I know it. Just as he humiliated other managers in the past to achieve his desires, so will he do to us. We can give in to him, or we can try to fight him and be destroyed. We shouldn't have sold Box 5, that was a stupid move. If I'd been smart, I would've done what Lenore wanted._

"William," Justin whispered softly to get his cousin's attention as Act II commenced. "Perhaps we should"-

"Nonsense. It was a childish prank; if that's the best he can do, we've nothing to worry about. And I believe our Phantom may be one of the stagehands. Clearly, it was someone behind Lenore that kept sending the blasted thing out on stage," William replied calmly, knowing precisely what Justin wished to discuss.

Act II proceeded to go forth, Justin's dread growing every second. The Ghost would not simply stop at such a minor interference. When Musetta entered, the performance hit another snag. The poor girl's costume got caught on something, which wouldn't have been a problem ordinarily. But this time, her dress came apart at the seams, collapsing to the stage floor and leaving her in her undergarments. The girl screamed her embarrassment, running offstage faster than Justin thought possible. The curtain dropped quickly as the audience began to laugh.

William had hurried out of their box to handle things backstage, which left Justin to deal with the tittering audience. Rather than wasting time going to the stage, he decided to address them from the box. _Here goes nothing…_

"Ladies and gentlemen," he called out, projecting his voice so that everyone would be sure to hear him, "we apologize for the interruptions. The production will resume shortly. Until such time, we ask that you simply stay in your seats and…talk amongst yourselves." Hopefully they would comply.

That little task completed, he dropped into his chair and sighed. He would've had a later scene moved forward, except that a good many portions of Acts III and IV contained dialogue for Musetta. And Musetta was, most likely, locked in her dressing room and crying over being so thoroughly shamed in public. Any parts of the last two acts that did not contain Musetta were extremely crucial to the romance between Rodolfo and Mimi, so moving those parts forward would ruin the rest of the performance.

After almost fifteen minutes, the curtain lifted and the opera resumed with Musetta's entrance. The girl tiptoed on stage as if terrified, her cheeks a very brilliant red. There was a slight waver in her voice when she sang, making it quite clear that she'd been crying and was struggling not to return to that state. The rest of Act II went without a hitch.

Act III was a short act, and Justin wasn't sure the Ghost could ruin it. In the first act, the monkey's entrance had been a response to Rodolfo's invitation. Musetta's little crisis had been a pun on the character, so willing to take off her clothes. Certainly Act III would not offer any opportunities…

Marcello and Musetta were engaged in their argument about Musetta's flirtations, and Justin was momentarily stunned by the superb acting. Then, suspicion whispered that maybe it was too good. Instead of proclaiming she would leave Marcello, Musetta flung herself at him and the two became locked in a vicious fistfight. Ignazio and Lenore had to pull the two apart in the end. Marcello and Musetta stared at one another in befuddlement, as if they hadn't the slightest idea why they'd behaved so terribly.

Act IV made Justin stiff as a board with tension. He knew it too would have some interruption, even though he tried to convince himself that the last act would be considered sacred due to Mimi's death. In fact, it was as Mimi lay on her deathbed talking to Rodolfo that the Ghost intervened.

"Do you remember when I came here for the first time?" Mimi inquired.

"Do I remember!" Rodolfo exclaimed.

"My light had gone out…"

A loud crash echoed through the house as a stage light hit the floor a few feet from Lenore and Ignazio. Ignazio and Lenore stared at it in terror, knowing how close they had come to being hit. Ignazio tore his eyes away from it, peering into the dark house for Justin and William, hoping for instruction on what to do now.

Lenore, on the other hand, decided for herself. "I lost the key, and you began groping about to find it," Mimi continued, stealing one of Rodolfo's lines so that her own made sense. Ignazio followed her lead, and they finished the production with a broken stage light on the set.

Just as the curtain fell, a voice rang out over the house. "_From this point forward, Box 5 __**will**__ be kept empty, dear managers._"

* * *

"Finally back at college!" Tammy crowed. "Not that this is where I prefer to be…but I'm glad not to be at home for a while. Anyway, I wish to apologize for taking so long on this chapter. But shortly after I last updated, I got a new kitten. And then family came in for Iowa, so I wasn't on my computer all that often. After that, I had to read Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. And then I just had writer's block for a while."

"You played that sims game instead of trying to write," Hiroshi said with a sour look. For he believed that, if Tammy wasn't busy with writing, she should occupy herself with pleasing him.

"Um…well…my sims needed me. They would've died without me. You on the other hand, survived the neglect," Tammy pointed out. "You're just so strong, Hiroshi."

"You little flatterer," Hiroshi accused.

"Damn, you saw through it. Oh well. Anyway, remember to review people."


	52. Chapter 52

Lady Taevyn: stupid computer, locking out the internet.

Lethia: lol, it's kinda hard for Lenore to kill Erik for his little pranks, what with him being immortal and all. I know, I'm such a smartass.

Der Drache Dame: Yay! Lenore's description of Erik amused someone! And…work on the prequel, damnit!

Black Hole Phoenix: Glad you are entertained by the ballet girls. As to rolling eyes at Lenore's story of the Opera Ghost, that was kinda the point. It's an absurd story, and Justin is naive enough to believe she's telling him the truth. As to the dropping of the light being pun-y and yet childish…he doesn't want to hurt Lenore, so he's keeping his pranks simple but still bothersome enough to get what he wants.

Timeflies: Yeah, these managers are odd. But aren't we all odd?

MJ MOD: Yes, Justin is naïve, William is careless, and Claudia isn't looking for trouble, she just kinda stumbled into it with her big mouth. As to Claudia being an idiot for assuming a raped woman would be ashamed…how many girls do you know that would have no issues whatsoever with being raped? Rape victims sometimes feel as if it was their fault they were raped somehow, and would naturally feel ashamed that they let such a thing happen to themselves. Not to mention the shame of her children being bastards. As you may have noticed, society isn't all too kind to children who have no legal father. After all, the definition of bastard is a child born out of wedlock, yet society has made this a derogatory term for someone who is mean or disagreeable. Not very positive at all. Anyways, Lenore isn't necessarily angry with Erik for disrupting the performance, but she'll certainly comment on it. As for the sims, I was playing Sims 2 (all expansion packs up through Seasons, I don't have Bon Voyage yet) and for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, it was a great book! Worth every penny!

Anonymous#13: Glad the interruptions made you laugh.

Wings of Glory: I'm sorry you missed Hiroshi last chapter. He won't be in this one either…well, he'll be mentioned, but not seen.

Hot4Gerry: I'm so sorry! I realize in the last chapter I hit the 'p' instead of 'o' so I accidentally called you Hpt4Gerry. Sorry, fingers slip occasionally. So, there's someone out there who hopes nothing bad happens to Justin, as he seems like a nice guy. Everyone else seems to think he's odd and naïve. (Yes, he is those things, but he's also a nice guy.) And yes, I was going for a phanfic that's out of the mainstream. I don't want to write a normal fanfic, cuz that wouldn't stand out from the rest.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

William was on his last nerve. He needed to go to his apartment and report to his master; he didn't have time to waste here listening to Justin panic. The performance had ended only fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn't even been able to socialize with the patrons or receive praise for returning Lenore to the public.

"…so clearly, we must do something," Justin was saying as he paced back and forth in their office. "It can't be some man, it has to be a ghost! You can explain away the monkey, the dress, and the stage light, but you have no excuse for that brawl in Act III. Obviously the Ghost possessed them."

"We don't have to do anything," William said through gritted teeth. "You're letting this man get to you. It's clear he's got you believing he's some supernatural being."

"What about Dessler's story? You don't think she'd make that up, do you?" Justin retorted.

"I agree with you on that," William granted. "There's no reason for her to help this man, whoever he is. She said she went to dinner that night; perhaps she had too much wine."

"Alcohol doesn't cause hallucinations!" Justin argued.

"She could've had a bad dream," William shrugged.

There was a knock at the office door, and the secretary poked his head into the room. "Several members of the cast wish to speak with you gentlemen," he informed his employers.

"Not now, we're busy," William snarled.

"I don't care if you're dying, you're damn well going to see us," Lenore shouted, shoving the secretary aside and storming into the office. Ignazio followed her, and the chorus shuffled in nervously, as if they weren't sure they should just barge in but certainly not wanting to be excluded from the conversation. The secretary, on the other hand, scurried back out, slamming the door behind him in his haste.

"We're about to meet with the stage hands; they have quite a bit to answer for," William informed them. "If you could just wait outside until we're done"-

"No, we could not," Lenore snapped. "We feel that"-

"Sirs?" the secretary said, opening the door once again. "The stage hands are here."

"Show them in," William sighed. "We'll settle this now." The stage hands entered, making the room extremely crowded between the cast and crew present. Some of them looked irked, others fearful, and some bored. "Whichever of you is playing at being a ghost, now is the time to confess." There was a few moments pause where all of the stage hands shifted nervously. "Alright, whoever reveals this nuisance will receive a pay raise."

"I know my men, sir," the head stage hand spoke up. "And it weren't none of us."

"So the monkey appeared all on its own, did it?" William chuckled. "And Patricia's gown fell off for the hell of it? I suppose the stage light dropped because it wanted to visit with the stage?"

"I ain't sayin' that. It just weren't us," the head stage hand replied. "That monkey…every time Monsieur Ricci threw it off stage, it disappeared instead of hittin' the floor. And then it would reappear right next to Madam Dessler. As for the stage light, we checked the riggings this afternoon and everything was in tip top shape. And no one was near it at the time. I already checked, and everyone has an alibi, who has another alibi, and so on. Unless you're suggestin' we're all dishonest…"

"Certainly not," Justin assured the man. "You see that, William? A toy that disappears and reappears on a whim, and a light that was on secure riggings with no one near enough to release it."

"There is no ghost!" William barked, glaring at the assembly.

"The toy and light may have logical explanations, but what about my dress?" Patricia inquired. "I wasn't near any piece of scenery, so it couldn't catch on that. No one stepped on it from behind, and even if they had, how did the seams get so weak? It was perfect during rehearsal this afternoon. I left it in the dressing room, with the door locked, until the performance. If you want to assume that I weakened the seams, how do you propose I got it caught on an invisible something or other onstage?"

"And explain the altercation between Patricia and Domingo in Act III while you're at it," Ignazio demanded.

"Don't say I was at fault," Domingo commanded before he could be blamed. "It was as if my body began moving of its own accord. I could see what I was doing, knew what was happening, but had no control."

"That's exactly how I felt too," Patricia informed the managers. "Something took control of us."

"I'm afraid you can't dismiss two people losing control of themselves easily, Monsieur Steele," Lenore said. "Obviously that was a case of possession."

"Precisely what I said," Justin exclaimed with a triumphant smile. "Now you see, William. Now you know what we're dealing with."

"I see and know nothing," William sighed, "except that someone here is afraid to reveal the real culprit. There is nothing to be done but have them all submit to polygraphs."

"I'll take no lie detector test!" Ignazio roared indignantly. The rest of the cast and crew echoed him, glaring at William for even suggesting such a thing.

"All those in favor of going on strike until our managers agree to resolve their issues with the Ghost, raise your hand," Lenore suggested.

Every hand, including Justin's, shot into the air. William grumbled under his breath. This was not the time for a strike. Master would be very displeased to say the least.

"Alright, fine," William conceded with a heavy sigh of exasperation. "You're all dismissed; Justin, let's get things in order."

* * *

After helping Ember secure the twins in their car seats, Lenore climbed into the front and buckled herself in. Then she turned to regard Erik, who was putting the car in reverse to back out of their parking space. Once he had finished backing up, she spoke. "I thought you weren't going to target me."

"I didn't," Erik replied. "The monkey had no target, Patricia's dress had no relation to you whatsoever, as would the little scuffle between Patricia and Domingo had you not involved yourself in it, and the stage light's target was clearly the stage."

"We'll just disregard the fact that I was onstage for each occurrence," Lenore muttered.

"Being the diva, you tend to be onstage quite a bit. You have only yourself to blame for that."

"Because I made myself such a great singer," Lenore snorted. "No Phantom of the Opera gave me lessons, not at all."

"You took this position."

"And I'm never going to hear the end of it," Lenore complained. "To think I went to Evans this afternoon on your behalf."

"That was an interesting story, chérie. Since when has two inches over six foot been close to seven feet? And I believe my eyes have changed to a yellow hue now, according to you."

"I had to come up with something," she explained. "Damn bastard didn't do what I asked anyway."

"What did you ask?" Ember inquired interestedly.

"I asked for them to take Erik's salary out of my wages, and to let me buy Box 5 permanently. But, as I'm sure you're well aware, they denied my request," Lenore said. "And just before we left, I proposed a massive strike if they didn't meet Erik's demands. So everything should be fine from now on." She sighed softly. "I'm so glad it's only a rehearsal tomorrow. I'm exhausted, I don't think I could handle another performance."

* * *

Seeing how exhausted she was put Erik in an extremely foul mood. He hadn't had the woman since their wedding night, almost eleven months without physical intimacy. She'd been too tired with the twins, but with Ember's assistance Lenore had been starting to recover from the fatigue. He'd been hoping that he could enjoy her tonight in bed, however she'd gone and gotten a job and was now too tired to consider participating in bedroom activities.

"Your thoughts are naughty, dear husband," Lenore commented from the passenger seat.

"Well perhaps you shouldn't be sneaking around in them," Erik retorted, strengthening his defenses.

"Ow," she mumbled, putting a hand to her head. "I hate it when you do that."

"I hate it when you read thoughts that are none of your business," Erik replied.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you wanting to fuck me is none of my business," Lenore returned.

"You two really don't need to share this conversation with the entire car," Ember sighed from the backseat. Deciding she was right, Erik disregarded Lenore's last comment and fell silent. Then Ember suddenly shrieked "What the holy hell?"

Looking in the rearview mirror, Erik saw a small girl of about five, black hair in a pixie cut and orange eyes glittering mischievously. "Get out of my car," he ordered.

"Aww, you wouldn't throw a cute little girl like me out in the cold, would you?" Satan whined.

"Yes, I would. Now get out."

"Hello Ember. It's nice to see you again; it's been such a long time. The last time I saw you was at the wedding, right?" the prince of darkness greeted the person whose lap he was occupying.

"Satan?" Ember guessed the child's identity.

"Unfortunately," Erik answered. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to ask Lenore how her first day back at the opera house went," Lucifer giggled. "I hear a particular ghost caused quite a ruckus at the performance."

"My day was tiring," Lenore supplied. "Therefore, I happen to be exhausted. End of story, good bye."

Lucifer disappeared from Ember's lap and reappeared on Lenore's. He twined his small arms around Lenore's neck. "Come on, let me stay awhile longer. You could be more descriptive about your day," he suggested.

Jerking the car to the side of the road, Erik flung open his door as he yanked Mephistopheles off of Lenore, then proceeded to throw him out. Slamming his door shut, Erik resumed driving.

Moments later, the girl reappeared, this time on the hood of the car, glaring in through the windshield. The radio clicked on and, using his true voice (which was deep, cavernous, and dripping with evil), Satan snarled, "I will not be ignored, Keeran!"

Irritated, Erik promptly slammed on the brakes, and the prince of darkness went flying off the hood of the car to hit the pavement in front of them. Ember was muttering scripture under her breath and Lenore had curled up as much as she possibly could, whimpering fearfully. _Why can't that damn idiot remember that his voice has an intense effect on mortals?_ Thomas simply glared, as if he were angry at Belial for scaring his mother and aunt, while Sonata delivered scorching complaints in her baby language. _But why aren't the children afraid?_ It could be because Satan was responsible for their conception, or had altered them to ensure they would properly mature. Or maybe because their father was an immortal. Or perhaps all of those reasons.

The body of the little girl picked itself up off the pavement, turning to look into the windshield. The body shifted as Satan took on his true form. He grew to his height of ten feet and four inches, the black pixie cut he had worn as a little girl turning to a red mane that fell to his shoulders. Black eyes glared malevolently as six pairs of black wings sprouted from his back.

"Do not try my patience, Erik Vidar Dessler," Satan's voice boomed angrily. "Remember that your wife is a gift that I may take back whenever I wish. Her death is mine to decide. You know better than most that death can come in many shades. I will choose the most harsh to cause you immeasurable pain! Perhaps you would enjoy for me to eradicate her memory and then have some vicious little disease eat away at her so that she spends months in pain, continuously sending you away because she doesn't even know who you are, much less why you would care to be with her in her final moments. Yes, get rid of her memory, and then inflict a very specific brain cancer that damages her ability to commit anything to memory so that she won't even remember that you come to her every day and beg her to let you be with her."

Erik glowered at the prince of darkness, knowing full well the fallen angel would follow through on his threats. "Get in the car, you fucking bastard," he snarled in acquiescence.

* * *

Achaius hummed as he worked, carefully sorting through his collection of beads. He was quite particular in which beads were to be used for what, and he had a good deal of beadwork ahead of him. Time was short; only one more after tonight. He was halfway through his first project when the door to the apartment swung open and William staggered in. The man appeared to be exhausted, but Achaius didn't care what state his servant was in so long as the work he wanted done was accomplished.

"She was spectacular tonight," Achaius stated. He hadn't gone to the show, but he knew she would have all of Paris talking.

"Yes. But I'm afraid we've hit a minor snag. She insisted we take action to appease the Opera Ghost," William complained.

"Of course she does," Achaius chuckled. "Just make sure you keep her happy until the time is right. Whatever it takes."

"As you wish."

* * *

The silence in the car was utterly deafening. Satan, having returned to a five year old girl with black hair and orange eyes, was clearly very pleased, sitting in Lenore's lap. Lenore was caressing the black tresses, hoping that this would pacify him and make him forget his threats. Ember was glowering at Satan, and the twins refused to make a sound due to the presence of this _thing_ that had been so cruel to their mother. Erik stared straight ahead, radiating annoyance and hatred.

"The Circle's meeting again in a few days," Satan commented. "You'll come, won't you Erik?"

"No," Erik replied caustically.

"Aw, why not?"

"Unlike the rest of the immortals, I have an occupation and a family," Erik explained.

"You could take the day off. And I'm sure Lenore won't mind," Satan dismissed these details.

"She'd mind terribly," Erik snarled.

"You'd give him permission, right darling?" Mephistopheles asked her.

"Um, sure, why not?" Lenore said agreeably. _Like I'm going to tell the devil he can't have what he wants after he just threatened my life._

"I will not be attending," Erik growled.

"Erik," Lenore said softly. "For me, hm?"

Erik sighed heavily. "Perhaps I could bother to make an appearance," he muttered.

"This'll be great. It's been too long since your last meeting, you know," Belial chattered. "You've no idea the developments that have occurred. Sariel may have a sharp eye, but Zakai thinks he might have found a gap in the barrier. So we might be able to stage an invasion."

Beelzebub continued discussing the invasion of Heaven for the rest of the ride. When they got home, Lenore was delighted to be able to get out of the car and get away from him. As she slipped out of the front seat of the car, she noticed someone was sitting on their doorstep.

"Erik, we have a guest," she informed her husband before reaching into the backseat to retrieve Sonata. Straightening with her daughter's car seat in hand, Lenore felt someone staring over her shoulder. Turning, she saw the dark skinned stranger who'd been on their stoop seconds before. His clothes were current fashion, his black hair was in dreadlocks, and his large brown eyes were fastened on Sonata. "Um, hi."

"You are mother?" he inquired in a deep rich voice, his eyes flicking up to Lenore's face, darting over to Ember, and then returning to Lenore.

"Yes, I"-

"May children always remember the Dreaming," he said. "For girl." He handed Lenore a shallow oblong wooden bowl with intricate carvings on the outside and bark lining on the inside.

"Uh, what precisely is it?" she inquired, not wanting to be rude but having no idea why her daughter would receive a bowl.

"Is coolamon. For when girl has doll," the man informed her politely. Clearly English wasn't his first language.

"Oh, well, thank you," Lenore said. _I wonder where you're from…I'll have to ask Erik later._

"For boy," the man continued, holding out what appeared to be a stick attached to a twig.

Lenore, however, had her hands full with the car seat and coolamon. Mercifully, Erik appeared at her side and accepted it, thanking this mysterious immortal a bit sharply, his temper still touchy because of Satan.

Having delivered his gifts, the immortal disappeared. "Who was that charming family member?" Lenore asked Erik. She was of the idea that, excepting Erik and Darius, that man was the nicest immortal she had met thus far. He was even a sight better than Gershom, as he hadn't ruined her dining room table.

"Yileen," Erik answered. "He's an aborigine from Australia. From one of the Kimberley tribes, I believe. He's a medicine man, and he also owns one of the Dreaming."

"One of the what?"

"Dreaming," Satan replied. "A Dreaming is a religious tale about the world's creation and belongs to a specific tribe; only one member of the tribe owns the Dreaming. Once every year, that member will tell the Dreaming to the tribe, so that they'll never forget it. It is passed on upon the tribe member's death to the heir he or she chooses. Being immortal, Yileen will never pass on the Dreaming. He's five thousand seven hundred and twenty three."

"Next time I see him, I'll have to ask about his Dreaming," Lenore said. It sounded interesting, and he'd been pleasant for this first visit. "So what's the stick for?"

"It's for a game," Belial said. "They call it Weet-weet, and it requires a good deal of skill. It's actually a form of competition for males. But anyone can join in the game, if they want to. What you do is swing it over your head and then throw it to the ground, in a manner of speaking. The stick detaches from the twig and then skips along the ground. The person who can skip it farthest wins. But your hold and swing have to be particular to get the stick to skip."

"I think I'll just be a spectator then," Lenore sighed. Once she learned proper holds for these types of things, she never forgot them; but it took her forever to learn and she had no intention of embarrassing herself attempting to play an ancient game that aboriginal children excelled at.

* * *

Satan sat on the edge of the bed, watching Erik move about the room in preparation for bed. Lenore was in the nursery putting the twins down for the night with Ember. He sighed heavily after a minute, utterly bored.

"Let's go out tonight," he proposed to Erik.

"Beg your pardon?" Erik snapped.

"Let's go out tonight. Just you and me. We'll find someone that'll be fun to kill," Satan suggested.

"I'm afraid your proposal doesn't interest me."

"Oh, don't be such a square. You'll enjoy it, I know you will."

"No."

"Come on," Satan whined. "You'll lose the knack for it if you don't practice every now and then."

"Perhaps it's a knack I should be trying to lose," Erik muttered.

"No way, that would suck. You'd never be happy if you lost the knack for murder," he argued. "Besides, don't you care what kind of name you'll get when you turn five hundred? You wouldn't want to get something meaning 'gentle', would you?"

"I don't particularly care," Erik said dismissively.

"You should," Satan mumbled bitterly. _This is wrong, all wrong. You're supposed to care, I'm supposed to mean the world to you. That's how it works. I'm everything: to Raghnall because I created him, to Khaldun because I gave him god-like powers, to Gershom because he has no one else, to Zakai because I gave his existence meaning, to Yileen because I created Raghnall who is his tribe's revered god, to Tristan because I granted him a way to see, to Lucas because I gave him the means to seek his revenge, to Viktor because I saved him from that battle with the Byzantine Army, to Hiroshi because I made it possible for him to kill as many as he liked without ever getting caught, to you because I gave you half of a perfect face and introduced you to the Circle, who didn't give a rat's ass what your face looked like. _(Darius, of course, didn't count; he was an immortal that Satan hadn't planned on existing.)

_But I'm not important to you anymore. I should never have given her to you; then I'd still be the sun in your universe. You wanted a lover, and I wanted you to be happy. I didn't think you'd be like Him. I thought, because I gave it to you, you'd be all the more grateful and love me even more for it. But now, just like Him, you have something you love more. I fell because I was jealous…and now, I have to suffer it all over again. I hate it…_

Lenore walked into the room then, and Erik's eyes turned to her. Lucifer felt like he always did when Erik looked at Lenore; he felt like he would be severely sick to his stomach. The love in Erik's eyes when he looked at that woman… _That love is supposed to be mine! I didn't bow down to what He loved more than me; I'll not bow out to this woman either. Fortunately for me, one can only fall from grace once. When all is said and done, I'll be the reason for that look in your eyes, Erik._

* * *

Erik was planning ways to ruin today's rehearsal as he entered the underground through the gate on the Rue Scribe side. He would see to it that the musicians had a great many difficulties with their instruments. The props department would find themselves thoroughly plagued with disappearing tools and materials. He considered harassing the costume department as well, then decided it could wait until tomorrow. Before he began, though, he would look in on his managers.

"You what?" he heard Lenore's voice as he approached the office.

"We cancelled rehearsal," Steele snarled. "Apparently, to hold a séance here tonight, we need to keep the atmosphere as calm as possible throughout the day."

"Why didn't you call and tell me not to come in then?" Lenore complained.

"I was hoping you'd be part of our circle, Madam Dessler," Evans informed her in a pleading voice. "Because you've had contact with the spirit before, it will increase chances of contact tonight."

"Look behind me gentlemen," Lenore instructed. Erik peered into the room through a tiny hole in the wall and glared at the managers. "What, pray tell, is Madam O'Malley holding?" She paused, giving a minute for her meaning to sink in. "My babies are only two months old. I can't simply hand them off for a few hours, it's impossible to tell when they'll need to feed."

"Surely you could just use a breast pump and"- Steele began to say.

"No, my husband doesn't approve of bottle feedings," Lenore snapped. "He wants me to form a strong bond with the children."

"If you just explain the situation"- Evans started to speak.

"You explain the bloody situation to him! Explain to my over-protective, dominating husband that my life is in danger because you won't pay the Opera Ghost or reserve his box, and that you want me to abandon our children for a few hours in an effort to pacify a spirit that wouldn't be riled up if you two had done what the Ghost asked in the first place!"

* * *

_I can't believe I'm doing this. Boy, Mom would go ballistic, calling this devil worship._ Lenore was currently sitting around a small circular table in Box 5 with Sarah, Patricia, Domingo, Justin, and Edgar Dunglas, the medium Justin had hired. _As if a séance is going to appease Erik…_

Bringing her mind back to what was currently transpiring, she had to force herself not to laugh. "If you are with us, Opera Ghost, and have anything to say, you may use my body," Edgar proclaimed. _Trust me, you don't want him to do that. I know what that feels like, and it isn't pleasant._ "Don't be afraid to communicate with us, spirit. Tell us what you need."

"_You irritate me,_" Erik's voice echoed throughout the auditorium. The other five members of the séance all but jumped out of their skins; they hadn't expected to hear a disembodied voice unless it came through Edgar. "_Thus the only thing I need is for you to leave._"

"Opera Ghost, I wish to apologize for angering you when my cousin and I took over the business," Justin ventured. "We want to help you move on to the after life. But we can't help unless you tell us what it is you have left undone, or whatever you might have left behind."

"_Clearly I never accomplished eradicating Dunglas' ancestors to avoid this tedious encounter,_" Erik sarcastically returned.

"Please, we just want to help," Sarah stated. "Do you know why you can't move on?"

"_I have not asked for you help, you impertinent little girl,_" Erik snapped.

"I don't mean to be impertinent, sir," she said, her voice trembling fearfully.

"We're here to help you," Domingo proclaimed. "Clearly, all these past years of paying your salary and reserving your box aren't doing you any good."

"_And you think you are capable of judging what does or does not do me good?_" Erik inquired, his tone implying he was truly amused by this.

"Is it that you need to feel loved before you can move on?" Patricia suddenly blurted out. "I know your parents never loved you, and then Christine…well, is that what you need? Someone to love you?"

The group sat still, each member holding their breath as they waited to hear his answer. A minute passed, and Edgar said, "Spirit, are you still with us?"

The voice that responded, in song, was Irish and feminine.

I have seen the lark soar high at morn,

Heard his song up in the blue.

"To whom are we speaking?" Edgar interrupted the voice.

I have heard the blackbird pipe his note,

The thrush and the linnet too.

"Spirit, please identify yourself," Edgar persisted.

But there's none of them can sing so sweet

My singing bird as you.

"Are you connected to the Opera Ghost?" Edgar asked, determined to get some information from this female voice.

If I could lure my singing bird

From his own cozy nest,

"Spirit"-

If I could catch my singing bird

I would warm him on my breast.

For there's none of them can sing so sweet

My singing bird as you.

"What is your name, Spirit?" Edgar inquired, surprisingly patient with the spirit that had ignored his requests thus far.

"A silent mouth is sweet to hear," the spirit replied with a girlish giggle. "I'd not be annoying the Opera Ghost if I were you, lad."

"So you know him. Is he still with us?"

"Oh, aye," the spirit said dismissively.

"Opera Ghost, will you be so kind as to answer Patricia's question?"

"Oi! Be ye thinkin' I don't love me laddie proper?" the female spirit growled.

"I beg your pardon!" Lenore snarled back. Who was this spirit, claiming to love Erik? After all, the only other woman had been Christine… _Oh my God, I'm such an idiot! Erik's probably using his ventriloquism to get them to stop asking._

"Jack was right; ye be a pretty little lassie, Lenore," the female spirit observed.

"It knows her name!" Patricia squealed, terrified. "We're all going to die!" She broke down into tears, sobbing that she was a good Catholic girl, she should never have agreed to participate in a séance, and she was going to be haunted by malevolent spirits for the rest of her life.

"Spirits, we thank you for the time you have given us and bid you farewell," Edgar said hurriedly. "Release hands." The six at the table did as asked, and the séance was done.

* * *

"So, another chapter up. It would have been up sooner, except my stupid ass professors…they…grrr," Tammy growled.

"Poor creampuff," Hiroshi said sympathetically. "You see, readers, last week, Tammy had a test on Monday, a project due on Tuesday, and then two tests on Thursday. A lot of stress for my little creampuff."

"Yes it was," Tammy grumbled. "Why didn't you do my project for me? That woulda helped."

"That would be cheating."

"You're condemned as it is! What does it matter to you?"

"I'm thinking of you, really."

"You know, I'm so glad to have this back. SHOCKY SPORK!" Tammy said as she stabbed Hiroshi with the spork. For she had finally reacquired the shocky spork Hiroshi had stolen back in May. "Oh, and hey, I have two new favorite songs, not that you really care, but the songs are 'Face Down' by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus and "Sound of the Underground" by Girls Aloud. So review the chapter, and if you're interested check out the songs."


	53. Chapter 53

Before I do the review replies, I have something to share with everyone. The Whispered Word, Lenore has a hater! Here is the review said hater left, and how I would have responded, had I been able to talk to Eww directly. (The parts of the review Eww left are between the "" "" marks.)

"" The following review has been submitted to: The Whispered Word, Lenore  
Chapter: 52

From: Eww... () ""

Hmm. Interesting. Too afraid to give me your name, Eww? I also note that you didn't give me an email. Clearly you don't want a reply. Why could that be? Are you afraid that I might say mean things back to you? Or do you have some small measure of intelligence and realize this isn't worth a fight? If that's the case, I wish you'd had enough sense to not even bother reviewing, as that's the more polite thing to do if you don't like someone's fic. Oh well. I also notice that you aren't signed in to Perhaps you don't have an account. But if you do, you clearly don't want me reading your work or favorite stories and finding out what you think is a good fanfic. Moving on...

"" Okay... There are SO many things wrong with this fanfic. I haven't read the whole thing; only skimmed through it. ""

Wait, you're leaving a review after only skimming my story? I can tell you that my story has a vast amount of detail throughout, you can't possibly truly know or understand what's been going on if you only skimmed...

"" But that's enough to know that it's bad. By looking at the reviews, I've realized that nobody has said anything. So I'm stepping up. ""

Hm, maybe they didn't say anything because...le gasp! they like it and think it's good!! But hey, be my guest. I enjoy it when people prove how stupid they are.

"" Look... You have good grammar, so I'll give you props for that. Now onward. ""

Oh, well, thanks I guess. Never thought my grammar was all that great myself, but...

"" 1. Really, back in the time that The Phantom of the Opera was placed, it was,  
as far as I know, very frowned-upon and improper to sleep in the same bed, even when you got married. ""

Ah, stupidity rears its humorous head! If you'd read the third paragraph in the first disclaimer in chapter 1, you'd know this doesn't take place in the time period Phantom is placed in. It takes place in present day. And, I do so love this admission "as far as I know". Clearly you don't know much. Yes, the high society and probably middle class would have slept in separate beds. But the lower class would definitely not worry about what's proper. The whole family might share a bed, depending on how poor they were.

"" 2. Lenore? LENORE?? Really, that is the most cliche name I have ever heard for back then. Yes, I like the name. Yes, I like Edgar Allan Poe's poems. But I've read too many fanfics set in this time where the girl's name is either Lenore or Lenora. ""

Firstly, once again, we're not in "this time" you refer to. Apparently it's become a cliche. Would you look at that? I wonder when it became a cliche. Because I started this story about two years ago. So if the cliche status came about sometime after that, maybe I'm responsible. Anyway, you say you like the name...so why are you complaining about it? I personally haven't encountered any other phanfics with the name Lenore or Lenora, but I'm a college student, and actually have a life, thus having things to do like go to class, do homework, hang out with friends. Obviously you have nothing better to do with your time than read fanfiction online. Maybe you should look into getting some friends...

"" 3. Let's just be honest... Erik loves ONLY Christine. That is NOT going to change. And, in the book and maybe in the movie, he dies three weeks after Christine leaves. He died out of his love for HER. ""

I've read the book, and seen the movie. I know that in the book, he dies 3 weeks after she leaves for his love of her. But, had you actually read the story rather than skimmed, you'd know I addressed that issue. Now, I think it's incredibly sad that you think Erik loved her. Personally, I'd say Erik was obsessed with her and worshipped her like a goddess. That's not really love in the sense you mean. A psychologist would probably love to debate the issue of whether or not Erik loved her or was obsessed, but I'm not going to get into that. Apparently, you believe that Erik couldn't possibly get over Christine and find it in his heart to love any one else. So glad to know that you have no faith in the idea that someone can learn to love, and live, again. If you wanted an Erik/Christine fic, why would you start reading one where Christine isn't listed as one of the principal characters?

"" 4. You're in college? Quite honestly, I'm rather surprised. You wrote sex in an uncomfortably descriptive manner. I mean, I know it's rated M, but it's everywhere. ""

Yes, I'm in college. How old are you? Probably you're simply a very literate high school student, or else you've never moved out of your parents' house. Uncomfortably descriptive sex scene? I'm so sorry that you felt uncomfortable. No one else seems to have. It's everywhere, you say. What, my story? No, I'm sure you mean that sex is everywhere. Is that my fault? I rate it M because I'd rather over-rate then under-rate. If I under-rate, the admins might delete it/get all up my ass about it. Which isn't something I have time to deal with. And, for your information, someone with a bachelor's degree in Creative Writing told me that my sex scene, especially with the "descriptions" I used, border on being 'X' rated.

"" 5. Hiroshi? Just... no. ""

Hiroshi is 'no', now. Maybe you should be a bit more specific, as this doesn't make much sense at all. If you simply didn't like Hiroshi, well, a lot of people don't. He's creepy, and hating him is rather the point, though he can be amusing at times. I mean, come on, he's Jack the Ripper. Oh, wait, you didn't read the story. You probably don't know that.

"" 6. The words "emo" and "meanie" were not known back then, so how come they  
keep saying it? ""

Yeah, get in the same time period as the story, Eww.

"" I can't say much else, since I haven't read it. However, I do plan on reading it over the next few days. I won't review again, since that would just be stupid, and I'll probably be too disgusted to do so anyway. I'm sorry, but from what I've seen, this just isn't a good fanfic. At all. ""

In light of what you've said, maybe you should have read it before leaving a review. You want to read it, fine. Personally, if I didn't like it as much as you claim not to, I wouldn't read it at all. But waste your time, that's none of my concern. It's a shame you weren't too disgusted to review the first time... Well, everyone has a different definition of what is or is not a good fanfic. Maybe if you had a fanfiction account and let me know what it is, I could find out what you think is good. But until I get that opportunity, you can take your opinions about my story, put them in your nose, and snort them for all I care.

Now, interestingly enough, I got another review from Eww two minutes after the first:

"" From: Eww... Again ()

I have only just noticed that it takes place in present day.

I'm sorry. That just made it worse. ""

Now, this review came from Chapter 24. More chapter skimming apparently. But at least you finally realized what time period the story is set in, dear Eww. Oh, it made it worse for you? Poor thing. Maybe now you'll stop wasting my time and yours writing reviews for a story you don't like. You are quite clearly closed-minded, since you can't even give a shot to a phanfic written in present day. There are many people who actually like this story, about a consistent 150 readers. I'm on 24 favorite lists, and 29 alert lists. As long as there's one person out there who reads and likes this story, I'll keep posting it. If you were hoping to hurt my feelings and make me feel insecure about this fic, hoping that I would take it down because you "stepped up" and informed me how horrible you think it is...you've got another think coming, Eww. Just shove it up your ass and stop wasting my time.

* * *

Lady Taevyn: Sorry if you didn't like the séance, but I needed it…you'll see why at the beginning of this chapter.

Lethia: Yeah, surprisingly enough, Lenore went 11 months without any sex.

Black Hole Phoenix: Hell became holy the moment Ember shrieked 'what the holy hell?', lol. And yeah, Satan as a little girl is very amusing, isn't it? Yes, your influence prompted newfound appreciation in "Sound of the Underground." And sorry for all the names/euphemisms for Satan that you felt were smushed into one breath. I just get tired of using the same two or three names for satan over and over…cuz in America, we like to change things up a bit. Chevron 7, locked!

Timeflies: You know, you've got a good point. It is pretty surprising that Lenore's sane after all the weird things that've happened to her (and continue to happen to her)

MJ MOD: Hmm, I never thought about how Erik would feel if he knew Satan was comparing him to God. You'll find out who the person with the Irish accent is in this chapter, practically right away.

Hot4Gerry: Unfortunately, Satan gets all the credit for Lenore and Erik having children. No kinder, higher, sweeter power involved. Just nasty old Satan. And it's true that Erik doesn't want to lose Lenore when she dies, but there's no way for him to be saved now. And he won't take heaven away from her, so…

June Birdie: As to what happened to Rosalyn, she just retired. That's all.

Iamphantomgirl: While I have the option to delete the flames that Eww left, I'm not going to. It's not worth the two seconds it would take. Also, if there are others out there like Eww, maybe they'll see Eww's reviews before reading the story and save both their time and mine by not reading and leaving worthless, unhelpful reviews.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Erik scowled as he followed Lenore to the diva's suite. _Spectacular. He would interfere with the séance, I should have known he'd show up. _Perhaps Erik wouldn't have been so irritated if the séance had achieved the results he wanted. But since it hadn't, Erik was feeling rather vicious.

"Erik, lad, ye wouldn't be mad at me, eh?" the feminine voice asked. At a height of only five foot, the diminutive red headed male leaning against the wall in Erik's domain seemed little more than a young boy. In all actuality, Tristan was three thousand one hundred and eighty eight years old. He was the basis for the legend of Medb, or Queen Mab if you preferred Shakespeare's name for the rascal.

Not only did Tristan have a feminine voice, but he had a rather effeminate look which he truly enjoyed. Tristan was usually seen wearing women's clothes, and sometimes women's jewelry as well. Today's choice of garments included a white mini skirt, emerald green tank top, black thigh-high stockings, and black mary janes. A silver locket was just visible in the darkness, and Erik was almost certain he'd caught a glimpse of diamond earrings.

"You shouldn't meddle," Erik snarled.

"Ye ain't got to get into a snit o'er it, though," Tristan whined with his Irish accent. He gave his waist length red braid a tug that was his trademark unconscious gesture to state he was sad. His golden eyes stared morosely through the wall opposite him. (Tristan had no central vision whatsoever, and his peripheral vision was extremely poor, allowing him to see only vague blurred shadows out of the corners of his eyes.)

"It was none of your business," Erik informed the immortal who fell into step with him as they continued through the walls to the diva's suite.

"It's because I called ye me laddie, innit?" Tristan guessed. "Didn't want your little wife hearin' that, did ye? She's got nothin' to worry about, ye turned me down flat as I recall."

That was true enough; at the first meeting of the Circle that Erik had ever attended, Tristan had taken him aside and offered to be his lover, temporarily or permanently, whichever Erik desired. He had gone so far as to assure Erik that should Erik want to bring a girl into the relationship, Tristan would welcome it gladly. He had no qualms in sharing a lover. Erik had immediately and firmly refused the idea, and had yet to regret it.

"The offer still stands, though, if ye be wantin' to change your mind," Tristan purred.

"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that would be lying," Erik dismissed the suggestion. (Every time Tristan visited Erik, he repeated his offer, and every time Erik turned him down. One would think Tristan could get it through his thick head that Erik wasn't interested.)

Upon reaching the diva's suite, Erik discovered that Evans had followed Lenore, profusely thanking her for being part of the séance, even though it had failed to achieve results.

"The next step will have to be an exorcism," Evans said regretfully, shaking his head over the prospect. "It's the only way to be sure everyone will be safe."

"I don't think an exorcism will do you any good," Lenore sighed. "If you ask me, the best course of action is to just do what he wants."

"He wants you fired," Evans informed her. "It doesn't make sense; you've got the best voice I've ever heard, and I always understood that's what he wanted of the cast."

"Maybe my voice is too similar to Christine's, and it's too painful for him to bear," Lenore suggested with a shrug as she helped Ember gather up toys and place them in the bag containing all the paraphernalia needed for an outing with the twins.

"Listen boy, just do what he asks," Ember advised. "Twenty two years I ran this Opera House, and Rosalyn and I did everything he asked. How much trouble did we have? Just one murder, in the first year, and that was because the ghost was jealous of another man paying attentions to my sister."

"And then he kidnapped your sister," Evans pointed out.

"Yes, and she died shortly thereafter," Ember reminded the boy. "Now, whether you believe the police that he was actually some drug lord who murdered her because she wouldn't financially support his trade or you believe the rumors that it truly was the ghost and he killed her for refusing to love him is your choice. But that was the only problem we ever had with the Phantom."

"Good night, Monsieur Evans," Lenore said sweetly, slinging the bag over her shoulder and picking up Thomas in his car seat. "Make sure you take our suggestions into consideration before you decide on an exorcism."

* * *

"Thanks for the help," Lenore said to Ember as they exited the Opera House. "Why can't they just do what he wants? Is it too much to ask?"

"Hell no," Ember answered. "They just want a little extra pocket money. Why bother paying for special insurance when you can keep that money for yourself? Who cares if your business falls to pieces when you've got an extra fifty thousand in the bank at the end of each month?"

"Let's just be thankful we weren't such moronic asses when we ran the opera house," Lenore mumbled.

"We? I believe Rosalyn and I did all the running; you were busy cavorting around in dark underground passages with a ghost," Ember reminded her sister.

"Well…that's not the point," Lenore giggled.

"You got the better end of that deal."

"Oh yeah, absolutely. Being told when to go to bed and get up, what to wear, what to eat, the numerous ways that my arguments were flawed…definitely the better end of the deal," Lenore retorted. "If anyone got the better end of that deal, it was Erik."

"I quite agree, chérie," Erik purred in her ear.

"Thank you for sneaking up on me," Lenore commented, shooting a dark glare at him over her shoulder. "Honestly, what if you scared me so bad, I dropped Thomas?"

"Let me hold the boy," demanded the feminine Irish voice from the séance. A red haired girl shorter than Lenore appeared to her left and fell into step beside her, staring straight ahead and waiting for a reply.

"And just who the hell are you?" Lenore inquired. _So it wasn't Erik using ventriloquism to end the séance; but how could there possibly be another girl that Erik loved who isn't Christine? He would've told me if there was a lover between me and Christine…at least, I think he would've told me._

"Call me Tris," the girl suggested, a devious smile on her lips. "I be knowing Erik for many years now, lass. A lot longer than ye have."

"You're trying my patience, Tristan," Erik growled.

"I was just havin' a bit o' fun with her," Tristan whined.

"Wait, Tristan is a boy's name," Lenore said.

"No, it's unisex," Ember informed her.

"Tristan" – Lenore began.

"Tris," the red head interrupted her.

"Fine, Tris, are you male or female?"

"Female," Tristan stated.

"Male," Erik snarled. "He's a member of the Circle."

"Ye be spoilin' all my fun," Tristan whined at Erik, tugging his waist length braid.

"No offence, Tris, but…you look like a girl," Lenore told the immortal.

"Thank ye," Tris grinned. "Did ye know I be the legendary Queen Mab?"

"Um, no, not really. Erik doesn't talk about his family that much," Lenore shrugged.

"That's the way you like it, ma petite," Erik remarked.

"Too true," Lenore agreed.

"Can I see the boy?" Tris inquired, changing the subject.

"Are you going to leave without having seen the babies?" Lenore asked with a tired sigh.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes, it's a yes," Lenore replied.

Everything went suddenly black, and she had a strange rested feeling, as if all the fatigue from taking care of the twins, opera rehearsals, and the séance had simply vanished. She was still walking forward of course, and it vaguely occurred to her that perhaps, due to being completely unable to see anything, she should halt.

"Oh, he's adorable, he'll be a handsome lad like his father," her voice sounded on her right, slightly above Lenore's current height. "Hand me the girl, won't ye?"

Lenore stopped dead in her tracks, utterly confused that her voice wasn't coming from her own mouth. Erik's hands suddenly gripped her shoulders and gently but firmly pushed her forward to get her walking again.

"Don't worry, chérie, Tristan won't keep your body for too long," Erik informed her. "As I'm sure you've noticed by now, Tristan is blind, so to see our children, he needs to switch consciousness with someone who can see."

"Why didn't he switch with you then?" Lenore mumbled angrily as Erik continued to guide her. After all, if Erik had known this was what Tristan intended, he should have at least warned her, if not taken the burden upon himself instead.

"Because he doesn't want to be me, he wants to be you," Erik explained. "Surely you realized during the séance that he has an attraction to me. Seeing as how you're my wife, he envies you, and had an opportunity to be you. In the physical sense at least."

Her vision returned just as suddenly as it had gone, and she blinked in confusion. She was now holding Sonata and Ember had taken Thomas. Clearly Tristan had switched babies with Ember so that he wouldn't have to bother being Ember for a few moments to take a look at Sonata.

"Erik, lad, ye've got such strong hands," Tristan purred. At which point Erik removed his hands from Tristan's shoulders, glowering at the short immortal.

* * *

Achaius labored over his last project, humming softly under his breath. William had been informed not to disturb him in any way, unless something dramatic happened to his quarry. When he finished, he set his project aside with a smile. Finally, everything was ready. Time had just run out, and he had completed all preparations for the mission. Tomorrow night, he would accomplish what he'd set out to do five months ago.

_Tomorrow night…tomorrow is the anniversary of…of the day I lost…my sister. Ruth…I…_

Achaius looked up into the hazel eyes of the young man sitting opposite him. "I didn't expect to see you today," he commented.

"I drop in when the mood suits me, as you well know," his visitor replied carelessly.

"You…you don't disapprove of what I'm doing, right? You won't try to stop me?" Achaius asked nervously.

"No, I came to encourage you. I think it's a splendid plan, and I'm all for it." The man smiled maliciously, a clear sign he was truly delighted with what Achaius had come up with. "Tomorrow night then, right?"

"Yes," Achaius confirmed. Tomorrow night, he would have precisely what he wanted.

* * *

"Why are you coming home with us?" Lenore snapped. "We don't have room in the car."

"No lyin' now, Lenore," Tristan chided. "Ye and me can share the front seat."

"Technically, yes. But it's kind of illegal to put two people in one seat."

"Don't worry. If we get pulled o'er, I'll be sure those police don't ticket us," Tristan assured her.

"It's immoral to mess with their minds," Lenore reprimanded.

"Erik, lad, I feel sorry for ye. She's no fun," Tristan remarked. "She always like this?"

"She's certainly not the first to condone immoral or illegal actions," Erik answered vaguely.

Tristan sighed. "And to think ye want her o'er me," he muttered. Tristan just couldn't understand it. There didn't seem to be any common grounds between Erik and Lenore. Erik was a murderer, which Lenore loathed and prohibited. Erik was malicious, Lenore was kind. It was a classic attraction of Darkness and Light. They were opposites, created to be together, generated to kill one another. Darkness would creep up on the Light, eating it up. Light would slowly bleed into the Darkness, burning it away. It was a relationship that never ended well.

Except this time, they wouldn't kill each other. Light would change the Darkness, no doubt of that, but could never kill Darkness. Simply because Darkness was, in this case, immortal. And so Light would perish, leaving Darkness in sorrow. _And I'll be there to help ease the pain. Can't leave me laddie lonely.

* * *

_

"Why are you spending the night?" Lenore asked Tristan as the short immortal bounded up the stairs of her home.

"I like to see me laddie now and then," he answered jovially as he disappeared down the corridor.

"Is he going to stay until Christmas?" Lenore inquired of Erik.

"He'll most likely stay until after New Year's," Erik replied.

"Why did your family have to be so…bizarre?" Lenore complained as they headed upstairs with Ember and the twins.

"Because yours had to be normal," Erik said.

"I hope you don't mean 'normal' as an insult," Ember remarked.

"Take it in any way you like," Erik shrugged.

"Insulting your wife's family in front of a member of said family is extremely rude," Ember informed him. When he neglected to apologize for his discourteous manner, Ember shook her head with a sigh. "I don't know why you married him, Lenore."

"Well, he's rich, and the sex is great," Lenore responded. "What else does a woman need?"

Before Ember or Erik could speculate on the needs of a woman beyond money and good sex, Tulia appeared at the top of the stairs. "Master Tristan is in the nursery with a hammer and nails," Tulia said fretfully.

"Tristan, what are you doing?" Erik called.

"Putting horseshoes on the cradles," Tristan's voice replied nonchalantly.

"Why?" Lenore asked as they reached the top of the steps and headed for the nursery.

"To protect the infants from the fairies," he answered. "I may be the midwife o' the faeries, but that don't mean I can stop 'em from taking my sister's babes."

"I am not your sister," Lenore snapped, entering the nursery just as Tristan began attaching the first horseshoe to Thomas's cradle.

When Tristan finished nailing the first horseshoe to the cradle, there was a few moments of blessed silence, which Erik used to address Lenore's comment to Tristan about their relation.

"The Circle is considered to be Satan's children, which makes the immortals siblings. As Tristan is considered to be my brother, you're his sister-in-law. However, in his time, there was no such reference as sister-in-law to refer to one's brother's wife. By marriage, she was a member of the family, and thus was called 'sister'," Erik explained.

"Whatever," Lenore sighed as Tristan commenced making a racket by fastening the second horseshoe to Sonata's cradle.

* * *

Erik was in a foul mood the next morning. He had promised to attend that meeting of the Circle today, and he wasn't looking forward to it. His time would be better spent in the Opera House, pestering those obnoxious managers of his. But Satan was becoming dangerously jealous of Lenore, so Erik had to at least show up to the meeting for a few minutes to keep Lenore safe.

As if a meeting with the Circle wasn't enough, Tristan had given a spectacular contribution to Erik's agitation. Last night, while Tristan was finishing adorning the cradles with horseshoes, Lenore had subtly suggested a desire for intimacy. Shortly after Erik had laid Lenore down on the bed, while he was in the process of removing her garments, Tristan pranced into the bedroom, all but begging to be included in their activities.

When Erik refused to allow that, Tristan pouted a few seconds before slipping into the bed and stating that this was the most comfortable bed in the house, and as the oldest person present, it was where he intended to sleep, simply carry on with their lovemaking and ignore his presence. Which had effectively ruined the mood. Realizing they had opted to forego taking pleasure in one another's bodies, Tristan snuggled up to Lenore, saying that he liked having a sister to spend the night with.

Thus, Erik had spent the night in his study, knowing full well that Tristan would attempt to take advantage of Erik should he stay in bed. Tristan was one of the three immortals that Lenore would be safe with (the other two being Gershom and Lucas), so Erik could afford to leave her alone with him.

Standing beside the bed, Erik shook his head. Tristan was curled around Lenore, snoring loudly. Lenore was mumbling incomprehensibly in her sleep. Though he hated to wake her, she needed to be getting ready for work. He reached out and shook her gently.

"No touch. Bad panda monkeys," she grumbled, clearly failing to awake.

Trying again, Erik shook her a bit more roughly than before, which incidentally jarred Tristan a bit.

"Faeries planned it," he mumbled before returning to his snoring.

Erik rolled his eyes and walked to the end of the bed. He yanked the covers down to the bottom of the bed and the two occupants moaned in protest, snuggling closer to one another, if that was even possible, for the warmth.

"Chérie, you need to get up," Erik commanded.

"Don't want to," Lenore whimpered.

"You wouldn't have to if you hadn't become the diva at the Opera House. It is time to pay the consequences for your decision," Erik told her.

"But…oh, fine," she mumbled, yawning as she opened her eyes and began extracting herself from Tristan's hold.

"Don't go," Tristan whined, not wanting to lose the warmth Lenore provided.

"You need to be up too," Erik informed him. "The Circle's meeting today. Or did you forget?"

Tristan sighed. "I don't know why I be needin' to go," he complained. "I ain't never missed a meetin' yet, you'd think I could skip just once."

"You wouldn't want to mar a perfect record like that," Erik returned. "Especially after three thousand plus years."

"Not tryin' to make me feel old, are you laddie?" Tristan teased.

Erik shrugged and left the room to see that Ember was up and in the process of preparing to leave.

An hour later, Erik had dropped Lenore, Ember and the twins at the Opera House, left the car in the car park, and made his way with Tristan down to Hell for the utterly pointless meeting of the Circle.

"Erik, I didn't know you'd be joining us," Hiroshi remarked upon seeing Erik. "I thought you'd be busy with those delightfully torturous managers of yours."

"I'm only here in the interests of protecting my wife," Erik explained.

"Satan started threatening her then. I was worried it would come to that," Hiroshi muttered. "Well, your attendance should help pacify him somewhat. He's been very anxious since yesterday and it makes me worry that something's up. But he was probably just nervous you wouldn't show, right?"

"He's well aware I have no desire to be here," Erik shrugged.

"Roshi, you know where Lucas is?" Tristan asked. Lucas, though disgusted with Tristan's femininity, was always kind to Tristan, and usually had some little gift for him.

"Oh, couldn't make it. Prior engagement," Hiroshi answered. "He'll see you at Christmas though."

"I'm spendin' Christmas with me laddie," Tristan stated.

"Oh, I know. We all are," Hiroshi replied. "Well, except Khaldun, you know how anti human-world he is."

"Tell me I misheard that," Erik growled.

"Didn't we tell you? We've all decided to spend Christmas at your house this year."

* * *

Lenore was finding it difficult to hide her frustration. She had just finished this night's performance of Aida, and wished to return to the diva's suite immediately. But the press was dying for photographs and interviews, to discuss her triumphant return to the stage. Perhaps she wouldn't have minded so much if Erik had been in the building; he had promised to leave the meeting a few minutes into it, but according to Ember, Erik hadn't shown up by Intermission. Which meant he'd been at that damned meeting all day.

_Maybe he likes going to those meetings. Maybe the only reason he stopped going when he met me was because he knew I wouldn't approve. But who in their right mind would enjoy going to Hell and talking about invading Heaven? Besides, Erik told me he doesn't care about Satan's war with God. It just doesn't make sense. There's no reason for him to have stuck around…unless maybe Satan said he'd kill me if Erik didn't stay for the whole thing. But the meeting should be over by now, it's almost eleven._

It wasn't until almost eleven thirty that Lenore managed to return to her dressing room. She neglected to slam the door shut behind her as the twins might be asleep. "Ember, has"-

She stopped mid-sentence, simply staring at the sight before her. Only one light was on in the room, a very dim one on an end table. Ember seemed to be fast asleep on couch next to the end table along the wall. Which would have been dismissed as nothing out of the ordinary if Thomas and Sonata didn't have what appeared to be Native American amulets around their necks. Sonata babbled happily, holding hers up for her mother to see. Thomas, on the other hand, was glaring off into a dark corner of the room.

"I've been waiting to meet you," a voice colder than death came from the corner. A boy about her height with pale blonde hair who seemed to be just out of his teens stepped into the light, his iron gray eyes fixed on Lenore intently. There was a hint of deep affection in those eyes, and it worried Lenore.

"Who are you? What did you do to Ember?"

"She's fine. She'll wake after I leave," the boy answered. "You…you look like…you look like Ruth."

"I'm not Ruth, I"-

"I know who you are," the boy interrupted her. "I was at your wedding. I'm Erik's brother, Lucas."

"Oh. So you came to give the twins those amulets to celebrate their birth," Lenore guessed. He may have gone about it a bit oddly, but he was an immortal and they tended to do things in any fashion other than normal.

"I have something for you as well."

"That's really not necessary."

"It is," Lucas said, stepping closer as he pulled a flask out of his pocket. The contents were dark and syrupy, and something told Lenore she most definitely didn't want it. "For you. You have to drink every drop." He removed the cork and held it out to her.

"No, really"-

"I insist!" he commanded sharply.

"What is it?" she asked, her hand twitching with a strange sudden impulse to accept the flask.

"You already know that," Lucas informed her, his iron gray eyes boring into hers. Despite how badly her hand seemed to want to take it, she wouldn't allow it. "Do you need me to pour it down your throat for you? Erik needed Hiroshi to help him, there's no shame in needing help."

_Dear God, he's trying to turn me immortal!

* * *

_

"I know this chapter was shorter than usual, but this was a perfect place to stop and leave you all in suspense. Not to mention the fact that it's finals week here at college and I don't have time to write much more before I have to do some studying and/or packing," Tammy explained. "Also, I'm taking the spring semester off. Since I'll be at home, I won't have the unlimited internet access…I might not be able to get on very much at all, so there may be long periods of time between updates."

"You're absolutely terrible, creampuff," Hiroshi complained, referring to the fact that updates might become extremely slow.

"Oh shut up! If you would've helped do homework and projects, and helped study for tests, I would have been able to do more updates this semester, and then it wouldn't suck as much!" Tammy snarled, brandishing the shocky spork.

"I'm not doing your work."

"Then you're good for nothing and I should eliminate you!"

"Don't overreact, creampuff."

"SHOCKY SPORK! Anyways, readers, please leave reviews." That said, Tammy trudged off to try to get something college-related accomplished, leaving Hiroshi twitching and smoking on the floor next to the computer.


	54. Chapter 54

Lady Taevyn: Who wouldn't like Tristan? And yeah, Lenore's definitely going to just _love_ having the immortals for Christmas, lol.

Lethia: The amulets the twins wear are for protection. And don't let Lucas make Lenore immortal you say? Well…we'll see…

Timeflies: Aww, you aren't sure you like Lucas? He's really not too bad…I don't think…I mean, it's not his fault he's a little off.

Hot4Gerry: Glad you like this story despite it's uniqueness.

Aryan-Dark: Yes, you can hug me. And I am so so so so sorry to have kept people waiting so long

Sabriel: Yes!!! Shocky spork for our hater!!! ...you're fun, I like you.

Official Rambler: Welcome aboard! I'm glad you like Hiroshi, and I'm sorry you find Lenore so spineless. But, as said by Erik in Susan Kay's Phantom, "None of us can choose where we will love."

Rosemasquerader: Keep reviewing, and glad you like modern story with old opera ghost.

Phantom of the Opera Fan: Glad you like this story, I'm actually somewhat surprised that so many people do. I figured only my friends would read it, and that'd be the fan base.

I'm sure you all know the spiel by now, I don't own Phantom, fic takes place about twenty years into the present, blah blah blah, **REVIEW**…

* * *

Lucas continued to stare at her, his mind quickly but carefully pulling down the barriers she had thrown up to keep him out. _She has to drink it. She just has to. _

Lucas hadn't always been so cruel. The world had done it to him. The lost of his parents, slavery, rescue from his enslavement, and then the revelation that his only remaining relative, his sister Ruth, was dead. Being free didn't matter then, there was no reason to be happy about anything. She had to be avenged. That was why he'd asked for immortality. So he could avenge her.

Avenging Ruth had done very little to ease his pain, which only served to anger him. And leave a touch of lunacy in his mind. Over the last millennia, many girls had died at his hands. Because they looked like Ruth, and the lunacy made him believe that they really were his sister.

_I never saw a body, there's no proof she's dead. I bet Satan lied to me. That horrible monster lied to me. No, she's alive. I know it. She's standing right in front of me. I must be so blind. But it's been such a long time, and I was so little when we were separated. She probably doesn't recognize me either._

"Ruth, it's me, Lucas," he murmured softly.

"I'm not" – she began to say.

"You don't have to hide anymore. You are safe now, Ruth. I promise. I killed them, they can't hurt you ever again," Lucas told her, stepping closer.

"No, you don't understand, I" –

"I do. I do understand. I know what they did to you. But they can't ever do that again, Ruth. They're dead. I know they are, I put them in Hell myself. You have to believe me!"

"No, I'm not" – she tried again.

"Are you mad at me? For not being able to protect you? How can you be mad at me? You're the one who let go! You're the one who let them drag you away without a fight! I tried so hard to get back to you, and you didn't even call my name! You let go of my hand! You let them separate us! But…it doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that you're alright, and we're together again. This time I know I can keep you safe. And if you drink this, no one can separate us ever again. Drink it, Ruth! You have to!"

"I'm not Ruth!"

Lucas blinked, taken aback by her statement. It cleared his vision, and he realized that she wasn't Ruth…but she looked so much like her.

* * *

Lenore could feel Lucas worming his way into her mind. She knew she didn't have too much longer. At least he had stopped calling her Ruth, though. Maybe now he'd stop trying to make her immortal.

"Stop fighting, it's completely useless. You know you'll drink the Elixir, one way or another," Lucas said.

"One way or another, most definitely," a dark voice behind her agreed. Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, holding her in place even though she was currently held immobile by Lucas's mind.

"You!" Lenore gasped, realizing the owner of the voice behind her. "What are you – Why are you…? I don't –"

"Because he loves you, you selfish little bitch," Satan hissed in her ear. "You stole what was rightfully mine, and you keep it all to yourself; you never share! You damnable thief!"

"But…I didn't mean to! You're the one who hooked us up in the first place!" Lenore exclaimed in an attempt to reason with him. "You should have known how he would feel, that he would love me instead of you. You could've stopped that! Why can't you just let him go anyway? You've got ten other immortals. Isn't that enough?"

"No. I want him!" Satan snarled.

"Why? Why does he matter so much to you?" Lenore was trembling now; Lucas was feet away with his Elixir.

"Why do you think, you inane mortal? He's provided me with more soul income than all the other immortals put together. He was such a splendid killer in his youth. But he never told you that, did he? All the miserable criminals and low lives he sent to Hell. But now that you've come along, that's all stopped. You're ruining him, killing him, you murderess!"

"Turning me immortal won't solve this. Erik's hatred for you will only increase," Lenore pointed out. Lucas was less than a foot away, now waiting for his master to finish the conversation.

"Maybe, at first. You will, too, but I'm sure I can persuade you to feel otherwise. And as soon as your desire turns to pleasing me, his will as well. He loves you so much, he'll do anything you love to do, so long as he can do it with you," Satan explained. "I lost the one I loved most once before; I won't lose, I refuse to be bested by you mortals again!"

Now inches away, Lucas' eyes were desperate. "Every drop, Ruth, or it won't work. You have to drink every drop," he whispered, pressing the edge of the glass flask to her lips.

"Yes, Ruth," Satan chuckled darkly, "drink every drop. Become mine."

Lenore's mind was struggling now, barely managing to hold onto control. She could hear Thomas and Sonata babbling angrily at Lucas and Satan in their baby talk. _Oh God, I don't think I can hold him anymore. Erik, where are you?_

* * *

Erik let a low growl escape his throat. Anytime Erik suggested he was ready to leave the meeting, Satan had hinted at all the disastrous accidents he might cause to kill Lenore. Erik did not appreciate being stuck in this absurd meeting, having no interest whatsoever in whether or not it would be possible to invade Heaven and start another war with God.

And a few moments ago, Satan had simply disappeared. Granted, his presence wasn't required for the Circle to convene, but it was traditional for him to stay once he'd shown up. The fact that he skipped out implied something dark, something Erik was sure he wouldn't like.

Zakai paused mid-sentence, and turned to look at Erik. "Have I said something unpleasant?" Zakai asked, referring to Erik's growl.

"Are you done talking about the possible weaknesses in Sariel's defense?" Erik snarled.

"No, I am not," Zakai answered.

"Well, that's rather unpleasant," Erik snapped. "Talk faster, I want this meeting over with."

"I shall talk at the speed that pleases me, child," Zakai hissed, his eyes narrowing.

There was a moment of tension in the Circle. Erik had just flagrantly disrespected an elder, something distinctly unprecedented. Erik wasn't about to apologize; he could care less. Zakai was fuming, ready to remind Erik in a rather nasty way that elders were to be respected.

"Zakai, I think you should just let it go," Hiroshi interceded. Erik was surprised; Hiroshi, though considered an adult by the Circle's standards, was still Zakai's junior and was taking quite a risk to stick his neck out like this. Zakai turned his angry glare to Hiroshi, who winced. "I mean…Erik hasn't bedded his wife since…goodness, since their honeymoon, if I recall correctly. The poor man's sexually frustrated, and you're keeping him from getting home to his…luscious, provocative young wife. Come to think of it, I wouldn't mind calling this meeting quits and hopping up to Earth to have a little…fun."

"Laddie, ye ought to tell me when ye need a little love," Tristan purred to Erik. "I can satisfy as well as that wife of yours."

"I doubt that," Hiroshi muttered under his breath.

"Perhaps we could call this meeting to a close, gentlemen?" Viktor proposed, shocking everyone. Viktor had never before spoken in a single meeting unless he was spoken to first. At the age of nine hundred and eighty four, Viktor was only sixteen years away from being an elder, and his words would be considered more seriously than Hiroshi's or Erik's.

"I do have research, Zakai," Raghnall pointed out.

Khaldun kept a stony, disinterested silence.

"I still have not finished my discussion," Zakai said sullenly.

Yileen muttered something about the Dreaming, not even mentally with the rest of the group.

"I wouldn't mind gettin' out early to see me sister," Tristan said jovially.

"Out of the three who voted, two hinted that they would like to end this meeting," Hiroshi told Zakai, as if Zakai couldn't count.

"Let the blame lay on Raghnall and Tristan," Zakai snarled. "Master will not have my blood for this!"

"I'll take all the blame," Raghnall offered. "Master beats me so often anyway, it won't make a difference."

"So be it," Zakai sighed angrily.

"Alright, then I declare this meeting closed," Raghnall announced in a chipper voice. "An Iberian Lynx snuffed it when a car hit it earlier this morning, and I've been dying to go research the adorable thing. I only just barely managed to spirit it away before Uriel found it and took that rare kitty to Heaven. I'm so excited, do you have any idea how rare the Iberian Lynx is?" Raghnall continued to ramble about his rare find as he hurried away to his laboratory.

* * *

"Oh my god, I am so so so so so so sorry," Tammy wept, proceeding to bash her head against the concrete wall of her dorm room.

"Stop that now, creampuff," Hiroshi chided, gently pulling her away from the wall. "You can't afford head injuries right now."

"But I've kept everyone waiting soo long for another chapter! Like…months….like…" Tammy paused momentarily to check the time of her last update… "almost a whole year!!! Eleven months to be precise!! And I delivered such a short chapter! With hardly any content, as far as I'm concerned!"

"I know that, creampuff, but you couldn't help it," Hiroshi said supportively, sitting her in her computer chair.

"Oh yes I could! I could have played less Sims!"

"You played Sims because you had writer's block, then writer's indecision over what to reveal about Lucas, then writer's block again, then the return to college where you've had far too much homework. Speaking of which, you need to write another paper tomorrow; if you don't, you'll fail the class. Now you see, you can't afford a head injury. There's too much work to do," Hiroshi stated.

"I hate you, you had to remind me of that stupid paper," Tammy moaned.

"Aww, go take a hot shower, creampuff," Hiroshi advised. "I'll take care of the review reminder."

"But…people find you creepy, no one's gonna review when a creepy person asks them to," Tammy reasoned.

"You go," Hiroshi repeated. Tammy trudged off, desperately in need of a good hot shower. "I hope you can forgive the poor girl. Not only has she had all that writer's block to deal with, but she's been entering new fandoms, like Naruto, and Twilight. Her mind has been plagued with Naruto fanfic ideas, though she couldn't seem to write anything down for them either. Poor thing, such horrible writer's block."

Hiroshi reached into the desk drawer and pulled out the Shocky Spork. "You know, she's been rather crabby lately, what with school work, writer's block, and some minor insomnia. I think I'll just keep this safe for a little while." He chuckled darkly. "Let's keep this between us, dear readers. And please do leave a review, or else I might have to let Tammy find out that the hard way that her beloved Shocky Spork is in my possession."


End file.
